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He’s a long time gettin’ ready,” sneered Foley. 

(Page 78) Frontispiece 


THE BOY SCOUTS 

OF THE 

LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 

OR 

THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES 
OF A NEW YORK SCHOOL BOV 


BY 

F. MOULTON McLANE 

Author of the Dan of the Mountain Stories, etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
CHARLES L. WRENN 


PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF 
THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 


NEW YORK 

BARSE & HOPKINS 

PUBLISHERS 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


P\ibUsKed -witH tHe Approval of tKe 
Box Scouts of America 

127no. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 

75 cents, postpaid. 

THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS— Crump 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 
— McLane 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS— Cheley 

THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS— Leb- ' 
BIQO 


(Other volumes in preparation) 

BARSE & HOPKINS 


PtJBLISHEES 


New York 


Copyright, 1917, by 
Barse & Hopkins 


The Boy Scouts of the Lighthouse Troop 


VAIL- BALLOU COMPANY 
amaHAMTON and new york 



JUN -2 !9I7 



U483810 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Tough Joe Darby 9 

II Wanted — Wings 19 

III Lessons 32 

IV What Became of Joe’s Dollar ... 43 

V Plunging In 55 

VI A New Boy 64 

VII The Fight 73 

VIII Surety 87 

IX Diamoih)s, Roses, and Sis 96 

X Thrillers 112 

XI An Exhibition 121 

XII The Best Book of All 131 

XIII Dick Again 141 

XIV Two People Learn Something .... 153 

XV The Great Adventure 170 

XVI Policeman Murphy Catches a Burglar . 183 

XVII In Court 192 

XVIII At Work 215 

XIX Red Mike’s Advice 227 

XX Roy’s Tenderfoot 237 




















ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

‘‘He^s a long time gettin’ ready,” sneered 

Foley Frontispiece ^ 

“Eoy, this is Joe Darby, who will be your guide” . 23 ^ 

Dick dropped the box 186 

‘‘Oh, Joe!” she cried. “A diamond — ring!** . . 247 


i 


$ 


'9 ' 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE 
LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


CHAPTEE I 

TOUGH JOE DABBY 

"W" OE, Dr. Cunningham wants to see you in 
I the office/^ said Miss Scott, as Joe Darby 
tornadoed into the room, slammed his 
books onto his desk with a bang, greeted the boy 
in front of him by ruffling his hair, and then began 
to fidget in his seat as usual. 

Joe stopped fidgeting at that. Hastily, he 
began to recall all the things that he had done that 
he shouldn’t have, and all the things he hadn’t 
done that he should have, and wondered what 
particular one had demanded a visit to the princi- 
pal’s offlce. He grinned at the boys who turned 
around to look at him. Everybody in the room 
knew what that summons meant. 

‘‘Now?” he growled, in his gruff voice. 

“As soon as you came. Dr. Cunningham said,” 
Miss Scott sighed. She knew that half the im- 
pudence and insolence that his other teachers com- 
plained of was the mere roughness and gruffness 
9 


10 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


of an ‘‘unlicked cub’^; her longing to help him 
softened her tired eyes as his chanced to meet 
them. So that Joe, once outside the door, said 
to himself, 

‘ ‘ J iminy ! l^owl know they ’re goin ’ to kick me 
out, by the way Miss Scott looked at me ! ” 

He calculated once more — rather proudly — his 
term’s record. Every time you misbehaved you 
got a “pink card” to take to the office; three pink 
cards meant a note home; and three notes home 
meant you were suspended — or, “kicked out” as 
Joe called it. Joe’s record so far this term stood 
— two notes home, and two pink cards toward an- 
other one. 

The more he thought about it, the more certain 
he was. ^^SJie knows,” he said, hotly. “I’ll bet 
she ’s only too glad to get rid of me ! ’ ’ The knowl- 
edge that there was ample reason for every one 
of his teachers to rejoice at his absence did not 
help him feel more comfortable. “Well, if they 
feel that way about it, let ’em ! She’s only gettin’ 
even with me for that mouse !” 

Last week a dead mouse he spied on the top of 
an ash-barrel, had appealed to his sense of mis- 
chief so strongly that he put it in his pocket and 
later slipped it under the lid of Miss Scott’s desk. 
He had watched her eagerly as she came in. She 
lifted the lid — then closed it down quickly, as he 
expected, with the pretty pink all gone from her 
cheeks. Joe felt a bit sorry he had done it. A 


TOUGH JOE DARBY 


11 


moment later he didn’t feel so sorry, for she rose 
to go out, and in the doorway called, “Joe, come 
here, please.” 

“They once think you’re bad, and how they’ll 
pick at you, ’ ’ he thought. ‘ ‘ Gee ! Even if a feller 
should want to try — ” (which hadn’t entered his 
head till that very moment) “he ain’t got no 
chance. She can’t know I put it there, but she 
spots me, first of all!” 

Once outside, she didn’t accuse him; instead, 
she leaned against the wall. Joe hoped fervently 
that she wouldn’t faint. Maybe she had called 
him because he was so big and strong. But she 
said, in a shaky voice, 

“Joe, I want you to do something for me. 
Will you ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” he had answered, gruffly, hoping she 
wasn’t going to ask him to carry her home. 

“A poor little mouse got into my desk last night 
and suffocated, I suppose. He’s lying just under 
the lid. I know I can trust you — ^will you, with- 
out letting the rest know — go and take it out? I 
can’t bear the sight of a mouse. It makes me 
sick to look at one.” He knew she wasn’t pre- 
tending; she surely looked sick. “There’s a pad 
of foolscap paper there. Wrap him up in a sheet 
of it, and — take it downstairs, will you, please? 
Don’t put it in the waste basket — I should think 
of it there all day.” 

“Yes’m,” he answered; and went and did it. 


12 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


He was sorry he had made her sick, and glad of the 
chance to make up for it, even if she didnT know. 

But now, he thought angrily, he wasn^t so sure 
about her not guessing. ‘‘She’s gettin’ even with 
me for that mouse,” he repeated to himself. 
“She knew I did it, and didn’t let on. She’s fixed 
it for me, all right! She’s just as mean as the 
rest!” 

Now he was actually facing the possibility of 
being suspended, it didn’t seem so much fun as 
he had thought it would. Ever since receiving his 
last pink card, he had had a delicious sense of 
peril, of skimming the danger-line, quite as the 
heroes of the paper-covered thrillers that he 
loved, lived every hour in overhanging danger. 
He had thoroughly enjoyed the slight gasps from 
the class as he kept on misbehaving, neglecting 
his lessons, being saucy to teachers — even after 
his last pink card. But as he went out this time, 
and grinned back at the faces that grinned mean- 
ingly at him — ^hadn’t there been a maliciousness, 
an exultance in their grins — a laughing at him in- 
stead of with him? He forgot that he had always 
tried to make the others laugh. “Yes, they ’ve had 
the fun,” came the sudden thought, “and /’m 
payin’ for it. I’ve been circus clown for them, 
and now this is just another stunt for them to look 
at. Jiminy! They don’t care what it means — 
t’ me.^” 

Nor did they. They were watching “Big Joe 


TOUGH JOE DARBY 


13 


Darby get his/’ curious to see how he’d take it, 
and wondering what it would mean to him at home. 

J oe was thinking of home, too. Mr. Darby was 
not a patient man. He worked hard all day, one 
of a gang digging cellars for a big construction 
company; and he had plenty of worries. Joe was 
the third of his eight children. Dick, the oldest, 
was a good-for-nothing, with ‘‘sporty” inclina- 
tions and a corresponding distaste for work. His 
chief occupation was “looking for a job”; but, 
whenever he found one, he speedily succeeded in 
getting himself discharged. The next brother, 
J ack, had run away from home three years ago — 
after a scene with his father — and had never been 
heard from. A younger sister was a cripple, 
whose ill-health used up every extra penny. Mr. 
Darby owed the doctor for her last sickness; he 
owed the installment house for their parlor furni- 
ture ; and he was carrying a heavy life insurance 
on himself and all the children. 

Joe remembered well what his father had said 
when the last pink card went home to be signed. 
Instead of delivering Joe a long lecture on be- 
havior, Mr. Darby had merely looked at Joe — a 
look Joe couldn’t forget! — and said, angrily, 

“You git kicked out o’ school” (Joe began to 
feel afraid, he was so vehement) “an’ I git you 
a job. Yes ; I git you a job shovelin’ on a garbage 
scow. I got a friend, boss there, that’ll take you. 
But first, mind you — I’ll give you a good one!” 


14 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


And he jerked his head toward the closet where 
the trunk and the trunk strap were stored. 

Joe had had, in his lifetime, just two of his 
father’s ‘^good ones” and he knew just what that 
promise signified. He didn’t hanker after a third. 
Neither did he like the idea of standing all day 
long knee-deep in garbage, shoveling incessantly, 
as the carts dumped their odorous burdens down 
into the scow. He had often watched the men 
doing it — always at a safe olfactory distance. 
What if ^‘the fellers” came and watched him as 
he had watched with them only the other day. 

By this time he had reached the principal’s 
office. Joe slouched in with a little swagger, and 
took his accustomed place on the familiar long 
bench. They always kept you waiting, Joe re- 
membered, just to get you uneasy. But he was 
an old hand at it now, he bragged to himself. 
They couldn’t get him uneasy. 

He looked around to see if there were other 
fellow-sufferers he could condole with, by sympa- 
thetic nudges, kicks, and scuffles. No, there was 
no one there but a strange boy with an ‘‘admit 
slip,” who kept his eyes down. Joe felt irritated. 
He wasn’t accustomed not to be looked at. Of 
course, a new boy wouldn’t know he was sitting 
near the toughest boy in the school, but that didn’t 
make Joe dislike him any less. Joe didn’t like 
fellows that set themselves up and wouldn’t look 
at you, just because they had better clothes. 


TOUGH JOE DAEBY 


15 


Yet this chap didn’t look exactly stuck-up in 
the face. He had a peculiar expression — a 
patient, waiting, listening look that puzzled Joe. 
That look made Joe think of Sis; yet this chap 
didn’t look sick. His face and hands were brown 
as if he spent some time out in the open. He held 
himself straight as an arrow; so much so that Joe 
unconsciously straightened his own big, slouching 
shoulders. By and by Joe noticed that his eyes 
didn’t follow the little things that happened in the 
office — Miss Ford flounced in, wearing a bright 
red waist — the two clerks giggled together in the 
corner. Now he had it! this new chap was blind! 

‘‘What’s he cornin’ to school for?” thought Joe. 
“What does he think he can learn? How can he 
read, or study, or write exercises? Jiminy! he 
doesn’t know how hard it is.” Joe found himself 
feeling sorry for him. 

Joe couldn’t keep from studying him. He had 
always thought of blind people as groping about 
helplessly with outstretched hands, as children 
grope when they play blindman’s-buff. He had 
also pictured them with clothing put on awry, and 
hair uncombed, because how could they see them- 
selves in the mirror? They also had grease 
spots over their clothing where they spilled food 
as they ate. Joe looked in vain for any. This 
boy was painfully neat, and tidy, even to trimness. 
Then, chancing to glance down at his own coat he 
found it ornamented with a splash of this mom- 


16 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


ing’s soup and a dash of yesterday ^s potato and 
gravy. And he, he thought to himself, wasn’t 
blind ! 

But just then Joe’s eyes happened to rove into 
the inner office. What he saw brought him back 
to his own affairs, and his heart sank as he looked. 
Dr. Cunningham was just reading a typewritten 
letter that the clerk had taken in ; now he was sign- 
ing it — now he was putting it into its envelope. 

Although Joe, as yet didn’t know what par- 
ticular misdeed had ‘‘tripped him up,” he did 
know there had been plenty of them that might 
have caused a pink card to be filed in the office. 
Once more he counted — two notes home; since 
then, two pink cards. Two plus one was three. 
A third note home — suspension — 

In his desperation, Joe made, then and there, 
a wild resolution. He’d never take that suspen- 
sion letter home ! He — couldn’t. He’d run away 
first; go West, or sail as stowaway in some of the 
vessels he had often watched at their piers. “I’m 
big and strong,” he thought, flexing his big biceps 
muscle. “They’d like me on a vessel. Course, 
they’d thrash me, first — but — it wouldn’t be like 
— my father’s — ” 

He began to plan how he could make his escape. 
If Dr. Cunningham gave him the note to carry 
home at the close of school, it would be easy. He 
would simply tear it up, go home, pack up a 
bundle, get his secretly hoarded dollar out of the 


TOUGH JOE DARBY 


17 


mattress, say good-by to his Sis, without her 
knowing it, and steal away that night, with an 
eight hours ^ start. But if the principal mailed 
it — it would reach home by noon, while he was still 
in school! His father was working near home 
this week, and went home at noon. If it got there 
then — ! 

Joe whistled. His father might be so angry 
that he ’d start for the school to get him — with the 
pupils all in the yard at recess. Joe’s cheeks grew 
red. Every bit of pride in him cried out that there 
mustn^t be a scene like that ! School tradition still 
told of a boy whose father pulled out a strap right 
in the principal’s office, and used it then and there. 

If that didn’t happen, then when Joe got home 
that afternoon, his mother would lock him in one 
of the inner rooms of the flat till his father arrived 
— and Dick was home ^‘out of work” as usual and 
would be only too glad to put J oe in his room if he 
didn’t go himself. Dick was bigger than he, and 
a full-fledged bully. Joe knew he’d do some pre- 
liminary punishing for his own amusement when 
he got him in there alone. 

There was no way out of that inner room. The 
transom into the flat hall was too small to climb 
through. The single window opened into a blind 
air shaft, which had no outlet into the cellar at its 
base, and was too wide for him to climb across into 
the next flat. Why, if the letter was mailed he 
couldn’t go home at all! 


18 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Jiminy ! But he was up against it. If he didn’t 
go home at all, he couldn’t take anything with him 
but the things he stood in. He had just five cents 
in his pocket. He had even accidentally left his 
dandy jack-knife on the table at home that morn- 
ing. But, worst of all, he would have at most, only 
a bare three hours ’ start, with his father working 
within ten minutes’ walk of home! Joe watched 
Dr. Cunningham with a dull ache of despair. 
And, as he watched, Joe saw him stick a stamp on 
the envelope. 


CHAPTER II 


WANTED WINGS 


T last Dr. Cunningham finished his con- 



ference with his secretary. Then he 


came to the doorway, smiling. Joe hated 


him for that smile. Grown-ups always smiled 
when they^d got you. And Dr. Cunningham had 
certainly got him. 

^‘You there, JoeV’ he asked, with great cheer- 
fulness. ‘‘Roy, too?’’ The blind lad turned his 
head alertly. “Joe, you come in first. And shut 
the door.” The last four words confirmed Joe’s 
fears; and he watched Dr. Cunningham as he 
played with the envelope that he still held in his 
hand. 

“Well, Joe?” he said, pleasantly, seating him- 
self. “I suppose you want to know why I sent 
for you?” 

Joe looked up anxiously. How anxiously, he 
could not realize : but it made the principal hasten 
to speak quickly : 

“Do you want to earn some money?” he asked. 

Behind his back Joe’s right hand gripped his 
left wrist to keep from shouting with the relief 


of it. 


19 


20 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Yes, sir,’’ he answered, fervently. 

“We were looking for some one in 1-B grade 
who would be trustworthy for what we needed. 
Miss Scott spoke of you.” He did not add that 
Miss Scott had not only first mentioned Joe, but 
afterward had pleaded for him, rather against Dr. 
Cunningham’s opinion: urging what she knew of 
the lad, and pleading her conviction that this was 
the one chance that might help Joe Darby “find 
himself. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sirU’ said Joe, eager now to hear the rest. 
Miss Scott — had spoken of him! After all he had 
done ! He couldn’t make it seem real. 

“We have a blind hoy entering to-day. You 
may have noticed him as you sat waiting. He has 
to have, of course, a guide to take him around. 
His guide will be paid a dollar a week for his 
services. You would have to take him from class 
to class, and help him to study in study-hours. 
Think it over for a minute while I see what Miss 
Green wants.” 

Dr. Cunningham strode into the outer office, 
leaving Joe with brain a-whirl. At first he won- 
dered, with a bit of resentment, why they had 
picked out him — tough Joe Darby — to be, as he ex- 
pressed it, “a blind sucker’s nursery-maid.” He 
thought how the other fellers would make fun of 
him in his new role of guardian-angel. “I’d have 
to turn goody-good, too,” he thought. Then he 
thought of the money they needed so sorely at 


WANTED— WINGS 


21 


home, and of the pride and pleasure there would 
be in taking a whole dollar home every week. The 
memory of the unconcealed joy with which the 
fellers had watched him depart, as they thought, 
to be expelled, made him add, as a corollary to his 
first thought, ‘‘It’s none o’ their business. Won’t 
they be surprised when I come back, and show 
’em Dr. Cunningham trusted me ! ’ ’ 

“Of course,” said Dr. Cunningham, returning 
that moment, “there are one or two little difficul- 
ties. We know how much you like fun — mischiev- 
ous, thoughtless, often troublesome fun. Of 
course there must be no fooling, and no pranks at 
Roy’s expense-” 

Joe’s eyes opened. Did Dr. Cunningham reaUy 
think he ’d do such a scurvy thing as play tricks on 
a blind chap? His next words showed uncom- 
promisingly that he did. 

“You oughtn’t to be surprised at our thinking 
that. You know you have done a great many 
things that were — ^yes, we must call them just plain 
mean: mean to your class-mates, mean to your 
teachers, and certainly mean in worrying your 
parents.” Joe thought of his father’s savage 
promise, and wondered scornfully how much it 
worried him! Joe didn’t believe his father could 
tell what Joe was studying in school, or even what 
grade he was in. 

“I wouldn’t play tricks on a feller that was — 
that way,” blurted Joe, awkwardly. 


22 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


^‘We-ell. ThaUs what Miss Scott said, as I re- 
member. But there’s another difficulty.” 

^‘Yes, sir?” asked Joe anxiously. Now that 
there was a possibility of not earning that 
precious money, it loomed twice as large to him. 

‘^The question of your rather low scholarship. 
With such marks as you have — one failure, the 
rest bare sixties — it’s a question whether you can 
afford to give up the necessary extra time. You 
need it for your own work. You know we always 
consider sixty a sort of ‘charity mark.’ ” 

Joe opened his lips, but closed them again. 
How could he tell Dr. Cunningham, in answer, that 
he studied just as little as he possibly could, and 
“skin through”; that his failure in Latin was 
solely an error of judgment — the result of “cut- 
ting down too fine” on this study. 

“I — I’ll study harder at home,” he found him- 
self promising rather to his own surprise. He 
never dreamed that such a thing as marks could 
stand between himself and a chance to earn money. 

“Then there’s the fact that you and Eoy will be 
allowed to speak whenever necessary, without ask- 
ing permission. You mustn’t abuse that priv- 
ilege, or any others granted you because of him.” 

“Dr. Cunningham, I won’t — honest!” 

“Is that a promise, Joe?” Dr. Cunningham’s 
hands went to Joe’s shoulders, and his eyes looked 
straight down into the boy’s. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Joe, unhesitatingly. 









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“Roy, this is Joe Darby, who will be your guide.” 

Page 23 








WANTED— WINGS 


23 


Something in the principal’s straight man-to-man 
look and question called up a feeling of self-respect 
new to Joe. 

Dr. Cunningham considered for the whole of the 
next sixty seconds. Joe knew, for he watched the 
second-hand of the clock as he waited. That self- 
respect-feeling had oozed away considerably be- 
fore the principal spoke again. 

‘‘Well. Suppose we try it for a month, and see 
how it works.” His serious face vanished, and 
he smiled at Joe as he never had before — as if they 
were friends and not enemies. “Now you must 
meet Eoy. But first — will you run out to the 
corner with this letter? They collect from that 
box in ten minutes, and I want it to go then. ’ ’ 

Dr. Cunningham handed Joe the letter in his 
hand — the letter that had caused Joe so much 
worry. It was addressed to a man in Syracuse ! 

When he ran back, the principal was at Eoy’s 
side. 

“Eoy, this is Joe Darby, who will be your guide. 
Joe, this is Eoy Manners.” 

Eoy put out a hard brown hand — straight out, 
and not gropingly. Somehow Joe had got the idea 
that all blind people were soft and flabby, like the 
blind white grubs that live in the earth : and blind 
Eoy’s strong grip surprised him. 

“You arranged everything. Dr. Cunningham?” 
asked Eoy : and his voice was as firm as his hand. 

“Yes, yes.” 


24 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


dollar a week is satisfactory U’ 

‘‘Yes. Now you two lads stay here in the office 
and get acquainted till the first bell rings. He’ll 
be in your classes, Joe, so tell him about the 
lessons.” 

“Seems kind o’ mean — to take money — f’r 
that — ” were Joe’s first words. 

‘ ‘ Why f It ’s a business arrangement. ’ ’ Roy ’s 
wonder made Joe feel abashed, and there came an 
awkward pause. 

“I hope,” began Roy, shyly, “I hope you won’t 
mind ‘being wings’ for me,” he laughed softly. 

“Bein’ wings!” echoed Joe. 

“That’s what I once heard an old colored 
mammy call her guide. I try not to be a nuis- 
ance. ’ ’ 

J oe muttered to himself, ‘ ‘ Bein ’ wings ! That ’s 
a new one for Joe Darby ! What would the fellers 
say!” Aloud he said, rather gruffly, “You 
mustn’t think of that. Just remember I’m bein’ 
paid for your bein’ a nuisance — if you ever should 
be one.” 

Roy laughed at Joe’s gruff earnestness. Joe 
joined him. 

“But I suppose we’d better talk shop. Tell me 
about this school. ’ ’ 

For Roy, to Joe’s surprise, was even eager to 
learn about the lessons, to find out where the class 
was in the subjects they were studying; and de- 
lighted to learn that his change of schools would 


WANTED— WINGS 


25 


make little difference. They were a lesson ahead 
of Eoy’s other school in Latin; a lesson behind in 
algebra ; and in the same chapters in English and 
biology. Such anxiety about lessons was some- 
thing new to Joe’s comprehension. 

“I can see how you can learn declensions and 
such, but how can you write the sentences, and 
correct them?” asked Joe, as they talked over to- 
day’s Latin. 

‘ ‘ I ’ll show you. ’ ’ Eoy got out a wooden tablet, 
a Strip of brass like a ruler, only it had holes in 
it, and what Joe called a punch. “I write Braille 
— ^an arrangement of punches for letters. See: 
I’ll write Joe Darby.” He inserted a sheet of 
stiff Manila paper on the tablet, laid a sti*ip of 
brass across, fastened it at the side, and, using the 
holes in the brass to guide him, punched; 


‘‘There. That’s your name, in Braille.” 

“Is that me?” exclaimed Joe. “That’s great. 
But see here — Joe has only three letters in it, and 
you’ve got four; and in Darby, you’ve got seven.” 

“Look at the first and last ones,” laughed Eoy. 

“They’re alike,” discovered Joe. “Well?” 

“Those two dots mean capital, and, at the end 
of a sentence, a period.” 

“That’s great!” exclaimed Joe. “Write your 
name now. ’ ’ 


26 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 
Roy immediately punched : 


^‘Then you see, what Vve written I can read 
with my Hen eyes’ — this way.” Roy removed the 
brass strip, and felt the line of raised dots with 
skillful fingers. ‘‘You see I’m not so- bad off— I 
have ten eyes instead of two.” 

It made Joe feel queer, partly with wonder at 
Roy’s ability to write and read that way, partly 
with pity at having to, and most of all, at Roy’s 
courage and cheerfulness. 

“My last guide got so he could read and tran- 
scribe what I wrote, for handing in to my teachers. 
He didn’t need to, though. I could send them to 
the Lighthouse to be ‘translated.’ ” 

“The Lighthouse!” queried Joe, struck by 
something new in Roy’s voice as he spoke the 
name. 

“The New York Association for the Blind has 
a big building on Fifty-ninth Street. They call it 
the Lighthouse. There they teach us to write and 
read Braille, and find guides for us, and have 
clubs and no end of fun for everybody, boys and 
girls and grown-ups. Say: next time our Scouts 
give an exhibition you must come.” 

‘ ‘ Scouts ! ’ ’ repeated J oe, amazed. ‘ ‘ I don ’t see 
how — ” then he stopped, wishing he could bite his 
clumsy tongue out. 


WANTED— WINGS 


27 


‘^How blind boys can be Scouts finished Eoy, 
cheerfully. Just come and see us. And we’re 
not excused from any of the tests, either. You’re 
a Scout, aren’t you?” 

‘‘No. ...” (Without knowing it, Eoy had 
touched a sore spot in Joe’s heart, and Joe made 
haste to change the subject.) “This writing, now 
— couldn’t I learn it?” he demanded. The fun of 
learning a code appealed to him. “Would you 
show me the alphabet sometime? Wouldn’t it be 
a help to you?” 

“Yes: a great help: but I had no right to ask 
you to do it. You see, the trouble with sending 
things away to be transcribed is that they can’t 
get back till we’re all through talking about it 
in class — ^unless I keep a lesson ahead all the 
time. But you needn’t do it unless you want 
to.” 

“I do — ^wouldn’t miss it for anything.” In his 
mind’s eye he saw himself watched by his class- 
mates as he ciphered out Eoy’s exercises as easily 
as his dime-novel heroes read their secret codes. 
Only this — was real ! 

“When I was in the elementary school,” ex- 
plained Eoy, “I could get all the books in Braille, 
and didn’t have to depend on any one. Now, in 
the High School, lots of the text books aren’t 
printed in Braille at all, so I have to depend on 
some one else. I don’t like that; it was fine when 
I could just do it all myself.” 


28 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Then the first bell rang, for pupils to be in their 
rooms, and Joe took Roy’s arm. 

Joe enjoyed to his innermost soul the thrill of 
taking Roy into class, of leading him up to Miss 
Scott’s desk. The boys that had looked at him 
gleefully when he went out, now looked fairly 
envious. Now was his turn to seem not to see 
them. 

But in his heart he was thankful that Roy could 
not see the blank look of amazement on every- 
body’s face. He felt that to Roy he was a differ- 
ent sort of boy from what the others thought of 
him. It was a curiously pleasant feeling. 

Miss Scott greeted Roy cordially, took his admit 
slip, and asked the necessary questions. “You 
find a place for him near you,” she said. There 
was no vacant seat in the room, so Joe led Roy to 
his own seat, and quietly got a chair for himself 
and sat in the aisle. One or two boys snickered 
at seeing Joe yield up his seat and desk; and they 
tried to get funny with him. But he gave them a 
look and they quit. Big Joe Darby wasn’t to be 
trifled with, that they knew. Again he was glad 
Roy could not see the side looks of surprise and 
the malicious grins that he had to endure without 
showing that he saw. 

Worst of all, the teachers, too, seemed puzzled, 
and showed it. Cranky Miss Wheeler even deliv- 
ered a remark on the subject, the tenor of which 
seemed to be, that if he couldn’t be depended on 


WANTED— WINGS 29 

better than he was for doing his lessons, she was 
sorry for Eoy. 

‘‘Splash!’’ muttered Joe to himself. “Ice-cold 
— right down your neck ! Eub it in, will you, when 
a feller’s tryin’!” But just then Eoy nudged 
him, smiled, and whispered, “Some eloquence!” 
and Joe felt easier. He hoped — how he hoped — 
that Eoy wouldn’t learn — just now, anyway, be- 
fore the trial month was up — that his “wings” 
was really the “bad boy” of his class. Partly be- 
cause he might not want him for guide — ^yes ; but 
more because Joe — well, he couldn’t exactly put 
it into words, but he simply hoped Eoy wouldn’t 
learn it, that was all. 

As the newness of his new duties wore off, Joe 
made other discoveries. He had to pay strict at- 
tention now, to Eoy, and, in Eoy’s interest, to the 
lesson. This was something new to him: and he 
was amazed to find how hard it was — the simple 
task of making his mind obey his will. He wanted 
to pay attention ; but time and again he found his 
thoughts wandering — watching a fly on the ceiling, 
or the trees blowing outside the window. He was 
the more ashamed because Eoy seemed not to have 
the least difficulty. Joe was glad Eoy couldn’t see 
him fidget and lose himself. But he wasn’t going 
to be beaten by a blind chap : no, sir, not he, big 
Joe Darby! 

It was even worse when it came to lessons. Eoy 
“beat him all hollow,” he had to confess. He was 


30 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


utterly disgusted with himself (perhaps for the 
first time in his life) when he tried to recite, and 
made a blunder that every one laughed at. 

’TwonT happen again, he vowed: “I won’t 
let ’em — ” but here he realized that he couldn’t 
help himself — that he couldn’t pummel his teach- 
ers as he did the boys — so he changed it to, ‘‘I 
won’t give ’em a chance again — to laugh at me — 
before Roy. ’ ’ He realized that it meant reviewing 
his school work from the very beginning of last 
term, in order to know what they were talking 
about; but he resolved to do it. 

A more delightful sensation was the special 
privilege of speaking to Roy during classes when- 
ever it was necessary. Now that he could talk, 
right in the middle of the lesson, he didn’t seem 
to care to. And what a free feeling it gave him, 
to know he wasn’t going to be ^‘jerked up” the 
next minute. Being good had some compensa- 
tions, after all. 

At the close of the third period. Miss Scott 
beckoned to Joe. He sprang to the desk. 

“You have a study-period now, haven’t you?” 
she asked. 

“Yes’m,” Joe answered. 

“You and Roy are to take your study-periods in 
the yard, whenever the weather permits. You can 
study aloud there, you see, without disturbing any 
one else.” 

Joe could scarcely believe his ears. He — whose 


WANTED— WINGS 


31 


chief amusement had been to “cut’’ study-periods, 
or to fritter away his time in them: and also to 
“sneak” out of the yard-gate whenever he had a 
chance — he was to be allowed to go to the yard 
and study unwatched. And the gate was always 
unlocked ! 


CHAPTEE III 


LESSONS 

F oe one thing, Joe resolved that he would 
fight himself till he conquered, if that open 
gate tempted him. But to his surprise, 
it didn’t. It might just as well have been locked, 
barred, bolted, or even non-existent. Joe didn’t 
even glance that way. He led Eoy to the bench 
beneath the big tree: and, not without a little 
awkwardness at the first working together, the 
two boys began to study. 

‘‘We’ll tackle the Latin first,” said Eoy; “I 
want to catch up on that extra lesson I’m behind. 
Wish I could do it this period.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, well. Miss Casey is reasonable. She won ’t 
call on you to-day, anyway. ’ ’ 

Eoy looked a bit puzzled ; but he only said, “But 
I like to know what they’re talking about; and 
I’ve got to do it sometime.” 

“Let’s peg away at it, then,” and Joe opened 
his Essentials of Lati%. “What do you want 
me to do? You’ll have to tell me how to help.” 

“Eead the new grammar part first,” said Eoy, 
preparing to listen by folding his hands and lean- 
ing his head against the tree-trunk. 

32 


LESSONS 


33 


Joe began the long introduction and explanation 
preliminary to rules on the use of the relative pro- 
noun. They plunged into difficulties right away. 
First, they found he read too fast ; then, when he 
tried to read more slowly, pausing between 
phrases while Eoy ‘‘put it into his head^’ as he 
expressed it, Joe found he didnT understand what 
he was reading himself, and so of course could not 
phrase it intelligibly. 

“Oh, well, if nobody understood it yesterday, 
I’m all right. She’ll explain it again to-day,” ob- 
served Eoy. The implied compliment — that Joe 
would have understood it if anybody had ! — made 
Joe hot and uncomfortable. He also felt hot and 
uncomfortable because he didn’t understand it — 
yesterday^ s lesson! He had never been disturbed 
about not getting lessons before ! 

Even then Eoy wouldn’t give it up, so they 
plugged away at it stubbornly : till suddenly both 
exclaimed together, “I see !” and victory was won. 

Joe learned more about how to study in that one 
period than he had learned in his whole school life 
put together. When he had studied his Latin les- 
sons before, he read the new grammar work has- 
tily, not caring whether he understood or remem- 
bered, so long as he could say he had read it. 
Then he read down the column of new words in 
the same manner, and wrote the translation of the 
sentences by the slow method of looking up every 
other word in the vocabulary in the back of the 


34 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


book. The way Roy did it was a revelation. 

After light had dawned on the meaning of the 
troublesome explanation and rules, Joe thought 
Roy would go on. But no : he insisted on reading 
it twice again : then in giving it back to J oe in his 
own words. Joe was amazed at both his quick- 
ness and his perseverance. He had never realized 
what thoroughness meant before. 

‘^Vocab. nextr’ asked Roy, as he concluded a 
perfect recitation. 

‘‘Golly!’’ sighed Joe. “I feel like a dog that’s 
been worryin’ a bone for half an hour.” 

“And got all the meat off from it,” added Roy 
slyly. “Read your old list.” 

^^Frater, brother, mors, death, cliens — ” read 
Joe rapidly. 

“Hold on there. Don’t I get the genitive and 
the gender? They’re sort of necessary evils, 
aren’t they? And please go a lot slower — they 
have to sink in, you know — and wait a bit before 
you teU the English, and let me guess from the 
sound. It’s dandy practice.” 

J oe suddenly realized another hole — no, a 
yawning cavern — in his own method of study. 
He had never bothered with such trifles as the 
genitive, the declension, or the gender. So he 
read the words as Roy commanded, feeling a bit 
cheap. But presently he found himself waiting 
anxiously after each word to see if Roy would be 
able to guess their meanings. In the process he 


LESSONS 35 

learned something more himself about how to 
study. 

*^Libero, liberare, liberavi, liberatus/^ read Joe, 
then paused. 

‘‘H’m,’’ Eoy had a habit of thinking aloud. 
‘^WeVe had liber, free, and libertas, liberty. 
That’s easy — to free?” 

‘^Yep.” They learned the entire new vocab- 
ulary in that thoroughgoing fashion. Joe thought 
they never would stop ^‘worrying at it.” Down 
the list he went with the Latin words, Roy giving 
meaning, gender, and genitive, or principal parts, 
if a verb, till he was perfect: then they turned 
about and did it backwards, Joe giving the Eng- 
lish and Roy the rest. 

For the third time in that short forty minutes 
another glimmer of an idea dawned in Joe’s brain 
— that Latin and English were somehow related 
to each other. Until then, he had thought of the 
parallelisms suggested by his teachers as mere 
vexatious additions to his troubles. Why did he 
care, he had thought, that two sets of folks should 
happen to hit upon words that sounded something 
alike, to express one meaning? And for the third 
time Joe realized a bit of weakness in himself that 
he would have to overcome. For his Latin pro- 
nunciation was none of the best, and his mistakes 
bothered Roy as he tried to memorize the words. 

Clang — clang. 

It was the gong for the close of the period. 


36 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Who’d ’a’ thought Twas forty minutes,’’ Joe 
fairly grumbled at the close of a period of enforced 
study. Never before had it passed so pleasantly, 
as out-of-doors under the trees, in solid, earnest 
application. Joe thought it was the out-doors, 
and the trees, and the freedom from being 
watched, to see if you did study, that made it so 
pleasant. 

He had marveled at Roy’s quickness — then 
blushed at his own stupidity. He had learned how 
to study ; he had found several deficiencies in him- 
self that might make him lose his place as helper 
to Roy unless he made them good by himself. He 
had then and there resolved to make them good, 
as speedily as possible. Altogether, it had been 
an eventful forty minutes. 

At the close of school — which also never came 
so soon, Joe thought — Roy said, 

‘‘You can go home with me to-day? There’s no 
one here — ” 

Joe had been warned by the home authorities 
to come home from school directly — or else they 
knew he had been kept in. Joe did give this dic- 
tum a thought — “But this is different, of course,” 
he argued. “Won’t their eyes stick out when they 
know ! ’ ’ 

“Sure,” he answered Roy, “but I got to wash 
my hands first.” He had happened to glance at 
his grubby fists, and, for the first time in his life, 
he awoke to the fact that they were dirty — chalky. 


LESSONS 


37 


grimy, inky, and muddy, and all other possible 
variations and combinations. He remembered 
that all of Roy’s family wasn’t blind. 

So he gave his tie a twitch, and ruffled his fingers 
through his heavy hair, in hopes it would lie flat. 
(It didn’t.) He wished now that he carried a 
comb in his pocket, like some of the ‘Mandies” in 
the class ; but hitherto he had scorned such effem- 
inate luxuries. 

‘‘He won’t ask me in, anyway — c’n say I got 
to hurry home — that’s no lie! — It’s just to take 
him to his door,” he thought as he joined the 
patiently waiting Roy. 

But when the half-hour walk to Roy’s home was 
ended, and J oe stood on the steps of a brownstone 
house, Joe found it was not so easy to escape. He 
intended to wait only till some one answered the 
bell, then deliver his charge and bolt. 

A neat, pink-cheeked maid opened the front 
door. 

“Come on in, Joe,” said Roy. “Where’s 
mother?” 

Joe looked around almost as if to escape. He 
hadn’t planned on meeting “mothers and things” 
he muttered to himself. Surreptitiously, he tried 
to tuck his soiled shirt-sleeves up under his coat. 
“Say, Roy, some other time — ” he muttered, hope- 
lessly. 

“Oh, no. Mother will be so anxious to see you. 
Here she comes, now.” 


38 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


There was a rustle of silk draperies, a sweet, 
intangible waft of perfume — and the sweetest, 
gentlest lady, almost too young-looking to be Roy’s 
mother, stood before him. She was dressed in 
something gray and filmy, with trimmings of 
white lace that looked like frost on the window- 
pane. She took her big boy by both shoulders. 

‘‘How’s the new school?” she inquired anx- 
iously. 

“Dandy! And, mother — this is my guide — Joe 
Darby. ’ ’ 

Was there the slightest lift of her delicate eye- 
brows, in question? Joe wasn’t sure, for his own 
eyes fell to the floor in embarrassment. He got 
through the handshake somehow — how, he could 
not tell. 

“Dr. Cunningham recommended him, mother, 
and so did his teacher. Miss Scott,” went on Roy. 
“I’m in luck; for they were certainly right about 
it. We’ve tried studying together already.” 

“You are in all of Roy’s classes, of course?” 
asked the clear, sweet voice. 

“Yes’m,” Joe’s own voice sounded to him as 
grutf and loud as if he were talking into an empty 
barrel. 

‘ ‘ Have you ever done this sort of thing before ? ’ ’ 
she asked. 

“No’m.” 

“But you think it won’t be bothersome — or diffi- 
cult?” 


LESSONS 


39 


‘'No’m.’’ 

By now she must have realized some of Joe’s 
abject misery: for she asked Joe no more ques- 
tions, but said to Eoy : 

‘ ‘ Take him up to your room, and I ’ll send Norah 
up.” Then she turned to watch them go upstairs, 
with one hand on the newel-post. 

It was then that Joe, daring to lift his eyes, saw 
her beautiful rings. Diamond rings happened to 
be one of her pet delights, and being rich, she could 
gratify it. Joe could hardly keep his eyes from 
the beautiful jewels. 

There were several rings on the white hand. 
One large solitaire, as big as a pea, flashed fire as 
her fingers moved absently : there was a circlet of 
five smaller stones, and a horseshoe of seven, that 
glittered gloriously, like a thousand imprisoned 
rainbows. They were beautiful stones, white and 
full of fire. How Dick would enjoy seeing them, 
thought Joe; he was so crazy about diamonds that 
his pals often called him Diamond Dick. 

Eoy led the way up a flight of stairs to a large, 
pleasant room overlooking a fine garden in the 
rear. Everything was so rich, so luxurious, that 
Joe again fell into abject misery. 

‘^He won’t want me,” he thought miserably. 
‘‘He canH want — me.^” 

Some one knocked on the door; then the rosy- 
cheeked servant entered with a tray. 

“Eight on the table, Norah,” Eoy’s hands flut- 


40 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


tered over the table deftly, and removed a stray 
paper. ‘‘What is it? I^m starving. 

“Cocoa, an’ sandwiches, an’ cake an’ apples,” 
answered Norah. “Shall I pour the cocoa. Mas- 
ter Roy?” 

“No: Joe will do that. Thank you, Norah; and 
tell mother we’re going to study.” 

As they ate and chattered, Joe forgot his shy- 
ness, forgot his discomfort, forgot the “differ- 
ence” between them in the way of money, that 
made him want to close up like an oyster — and 
felt only that they were two boys of the same age, 
who were going to be very close comrades for the 
next few months. 

After the repast — ^plates and cups and choc- 
olate-pot were quite empty when they finished — 
they tackled the Latin lesson again, and, much to 
Joe’s joy, managed to make up the lost lesson that 
bothered Roy, and prepare the lesson for the 
morrow. 

“How did you ever learn how to?” asked Joe, 
admiringly. 

“How to — ^what?” 

“Why, — to — to go at a lesson the way you do. 
Who showed you how?” explained Joe, finding 
it somewhat hard to explain just what he 
meant. 

“Why — ^nobody. It was just there to be done, 
and so I did it. It was my loss if I didn’t get it. 
How else would you learn Latin and be sure of it? 


LESSONS 41 

But I daresay there are lots of easier ways — for 
other boys/’ and he stifled a tiny sigh. 

That was the reason ! “It was there to be done, 
so I did it!” said Eoy. “My loss if I didn’t.” 
To Joe, a lesson was a thing to be — skimmed over, 
or dived under, or sneaked through, or dodged 
around — any way, over or under or through or 
around, of getting past it, and not be annoyed too 
much by his teachers for failure to learn. His 
loss if he didn’t? Not once had that idea ever 
entered Joe’s head! Wasn’t it his teachers’ busi- 
ness to see that he did it: and their loss, if any- 
body’s, if they didn’t attend to the business they 
were paid for? Why, weren’t they paid to make 
him learn? And was he paid to learn? Once 
more Joe “saw a light.” “Let your teacher do 
the worrying,” evidently wasn’t a part of Eoy’s 
philosophy. 

They studied together till it began to grow dark. 
Joe had to confess to himself, of an actual interest 
in the lesson : and he mentally dedicated this eve- 
ning to “jacking himself up” in the things in 
which he was deficient. 

‘ ‘ Jiminy ! I ’m in for a grind, all right, ’ ’ he said 
to himself, as Eoy left him for a moment at his 
mother’s call. For a moment he wondered idly 
whether he wanted to tackle it. Then he heard 
something that made him sorry he had had that 
regretful thought, and certain as to what he 
wanted. 


42 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Roy had shut the door behind him, as he passed 
into his mother’s room: but there was a ventilator 
which carried broken phrases of their talk to J oe. 

‘‘Are you sure it was Dr. Cunningham that rec- 
ommended him?” 

“Why, yes, mother,” answered Roy. 

“Well, you know ...” Joe could catch only 
snatches “. . . only a trial: and if you don’t like 
. . . don’t have to. . . .” 

“I shall/ ^ said Roy, emphatically. “I know I 
shall.” 

“We-ell,” answered Mrs. Manners, in dubious 
tones that made Joe flush. “I think you’ve 
worked long enough this afternoon.” 

So, ten minutes later, Joe was racing for home 
as fast as his- feet could carry him. 


CHAPTER IV 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE^S DOLLAR 

I T was past six when at last he bolted, three 
steps at a time, up the four flights to the 
Darby flat. His father would be at home. 
Yes, Joe could hear him talking in the kitchen. 
So much the better. 

‘^IVe told him times enough, to come straight 
home,^’ he was announcing loudly. ^‘If he’s been 
cuttin’ up again — ” Joe scarcely heard his 
words. In he dashed, intent to tell his good news. 
He was astounded to find himself collared. 

‘‘Didn’t I tell ye always to come straight home 
from school, ye good-for-nothing,” demanded Mr. 
Darby with a shake. “Where ye been? If ye 
was kep’ in for cuttin’ up — ” 

Joe gasped. Was this how he had planned to 
announce proudly his dollar a week? 

“I got a job — ” he began. But that only in- 
creased the difficulty. He didn’t even get a chance 
to explain. 

“You left school to get a job? I’ll tend to you. 
Lemme alone, ol’ woman,” for Joe’s mother began 
to plead for him. “You ain’t left school; you 
been kicked out, that’s what: and fought if you 

43 


44 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


get a job before you come borne, that would save 
your skin ! Wba ’d I promise you if you got kicked 
out o^ school? Eh?^’ 

didn^t get kicked out,’^ said Joe, sullenly. 
Oh, what was the use of anything ! 

^‘What then?^’ 

^^You might listen to me first,’’ complained the 
boy — forgetting how many reasons he had given 
his father in the past, to make him believe just 
what he did. ‘‘Dr. Cunningham has given me a 
job in school, as guide to a blind boy that’s just 
entered. I take him around, and read to him, an’ 
help him study — ” 

^*You help any one study!” interrupted Dick, 
sneeringly. He had been hanging around, eagerly 
waiting to see Joe “catch it” and now he actually 
looked disappointed. “Ho! The blind man on 
the corner has a little yaller pup to lead him 
round. ’ ’ 

“Shut up, you,” said his father, savagely. 
Then he added, more gently, “Go on, Joe.” 

“That was why I’m late. I had to take him 
home, and then he wanted me to help him do some 
lessons — read them to him, you know,” explained 
Joe, modestly, “an’ then his mother came in, an’ 
talked a long time. I got avray as soon as I could. 
They pay me a dollar a week for it. ’ ’ 

“Really, Joe?” exclaimed his mother. “Oh, 
Joe! I thought you’d been put out o’ school, an’ 
—an’ didn’t dare come home, and we’d lost you — 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE^S DOLLAR 45 


like J ack. ’ ’ She patted his shoulder timidly, wip- 
ing a tear on her apron. Joe flushed as he thought 
how near it came being true. 

“Needn’t worry about that,” he muttered. 
“Do you think I’m like Jack? An’ I won’t lose 
that job, either, as Dick does all the jobs he gets.” 
He couldn’t resist a knock at Dick, after the way 
Dick acted toward him. “You don't think I’m 
like Jack, or Dick — do you?” he demanded of his 
father. 

“You’ve been goin’ on at school just the way 
both of ’em did,” answered his father slowly. 
“Just ’fore they quit on their own hook an’ went 
to the dogs. I’ll be thankful if you’re diffrunt, 
but I ain’t countin’ on it too much.” 

Joe felt his face grow hot again. Some of Dr. 
Cunningham’s words came back to him. “Mean 
on your parents — ” Was that what he meant? 
Had they been — worrying over him? Why didn’t 
they show they cared, then! But had he showed 
he cared? “A feller’s folks are queer things,” 
thought Joe. “Well, maybe he seemed as queer 
to them,” and he sighed at the tremendous puzzle 
it all was. 

Sis called to him then, from the next room. 
She fairly clutched him round the neck: and Joe 
could feel her arms tremble. 

“I’m so glad — ^you didn’t run away,” she 
whispered. (How they all thought he’d run away 
from consequences, like a coward, thought Joe.) 


46 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


^^Are you, SisU^ he mumbled. 

‘‘Though I shouldn’t have blamed you,” she 
added, in a lower whisper. “Oh! Dad was awful 
mad to-night. I — I almost didnH want you to 
come. I’ll never forget the last time father — I 
think it hurt me more than you. And mother, 
too.” 

Joe remembered shame-facedly what it was for, 
that he had earned “a good one,” and hurt Sis 
and his mother so. He and a gang of other boys 
had had an afternoon’s fun, stoning the windows 
of a vacant house. They had been caught, and 
their fathers had paid for the glass. ‘ ‘ Golly ! ” he 
said aloud. He began to see himself as if he were 
another boy; and he began to think that other fel- 
low was a mean sort of chap. 

“Don’t worry. Sis,” he said proudly, “I’ve got 
beyond needin’ ’em. I’m a wage-earner now.” 

“What do you mean? Oh, you haven’t left 
school?” 

Why were they all so daffy about school, thought 
Joe. But he assured her he hadn’t: in fact, that 
wild horses couldn’t tear him away from school 
now. 

“Then,” she whispered, “oh, Joe, do you know 
what that means to me? For two years father’s 
been tryin’ to save up to send me away for a week 
in the country. That was why he was so angry 
when you broke those windows. He had to pay 
—out of that!” 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE^S DOLLAR 47 


‘‘I’m — sorry,” he jerked out. “Sis — ^honest, I 
havenH been sorry till this minute. I just thought 
I had my fun and I paid for it. I thought }ie was 
just mad!’^ 

“Well; hurry up and get your supper — ^ma’s 
callin’ — so you can come back and tell me all about 
this blind boy. It’ll be something brand new for 
me to think of. You’ve got to tell me all about 
him, every single little bit.” 

When Joe got out into the kitchen again, he ap- 
proached his father. 

“Say, could I — ” he was surprised to find he 
was more shaky than if he were “in for a good 
one” — “As long as you weren’t countin’ on — my 
earnin’s” (how proud he was of that word) 
“could I put it all with what you’re savin’ for Sis 
to go to the country?” 

Mr. Darby choked over his tea. 

“Sure,” he said hoarsely, without looking up. 
Joe wondered if this question had displeased him; 
though he couldn’t see why it should. 

Joe’s account of his adventures occupied every- 
body’s attention during the evening meal. He 
had no idea his folks could be so interested in his 
doings. Needless to say, there were several items 
which he omitted — some of which, he felt, were the 
most important events of a very eventful day ; but 
they concerned him only. 

Dick sulked by himself. He didn’t like to have 
his “kid brother” the center of attention and com- 


48 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


mendation. Dick had an account of a match he 
had witnessed — and lost money on — ^between Slug- 
ger Jones and Brute Dempsey. He tried to relate 
it ; but nobody paid any attention to him. He was 
the only one of the circle that didnT overwhelm 
Joe with questions. Even Sis, when he went to 
sit with her, asked him a round dozen. 

Joe had to describe, in the minutest detail, Roy, 
Roy^s home, and Roy^s mother. But there was 
one detail he didnT finish. He was answering his 
mother’s questions as to how Mrs. Manners was 
dressed, and he plunged with enthusiasm into a 
description of her rings. 

Joe was sitting next to Mr. Darby ; and the first 
thing he knew, the man’s boot caught him in the 
ankle in an emphatic kick. 

‘‘Golly,” he gasped; for it hurt. “Now, what 
was that for?” He looked round the table in 
question as he rubbed his shin. In a second he 
had met Dick’s eyes — and knew. 

He had never seen Dick look like that before. 
His careless insolence was gone; and he was 
strangely earnest. His eyes glittered, greedily 
and excitedly. There was a wolfish look to his 
whole expression that reminded Joe of a starving 
dog he had once tried to feed, which had bitten 
the hand that held out the food. 

Joe knew that Dick was sometimes called Dia- 
mond Dick by his pals — ^why, Joe didn’t exactly 
know. There was a hidden story behind it, which 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE^S DOLLAR 49 


Dick didnT want anybody to know. He certainly 
owned no diamonds; and although he sometimes 
talked of how he was going to ‘‘make his pile’^ as 
a diamond-trader, he lacked the opportunities. 
For a diamond-trader must either have stones — 
or a stone — of his own to start trading with, or 
enough of a reputation to make other people trust 
him with theirs : and Dick had neither. However, 
he professed to a great knowledge of diamonds; 
and nothing pleased him better than to stand be- 
fore a jeweler ^s window and discuss the display 
as to “ flaws ^ ’ and ‘ ‘ off-colors ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ blue-whites ’ ^ 
to any one willing to listen. 

Dick^s expression scared Joe. He felt unwill- 
ing to go on — ^why, he could scarcely tell. 

A question from Mrs. Darby set Joe’s paralyzed 
wits and tongue to working again. 

“Oh, yes; she had a lot — two or three. I guess 
maybe they were fake. I didn’t notice par- 
ticular.” But the harm was done. Joe knew 
Dick knew he was blufl&ng. 

After supper Joe took his books. It was a 
bigger pile than he usually brought home. 

“Don’t you want to come to the movies?” in- 
vited Dick. “I’U treat.” 

“Got to study,” answered Joe, slamming down 
one book so hard that the cover parted company 
with the inside. 

‘ ‘ Study ! You I ” hooted Dick, with the superior 
sneer on his lips that Joe often tried to imitate, 


50 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


because it was so irritating. Then he slammed 
the door behind him. 

Joe scratched his head in puzzled wonder. 
Dick didn’t generally bother himself with his 
‘‘nuisance of a kid brother” as he called Joe; 
especially when it meant his treat. Joe was sorry 
he couldn’t go. He had always wanted to be bet- 
ter chums with Dick. There were many things 
about Dick that he admired. To be quite candid, 
however, they were chiefly his impudent self- 
assurance of manner, his insolent swagger, and 
his familiar way of talking of several of the lesser 
lights of the prize-ring, with whom he had a speak- 
ing acquaintance. 

“Now he’s mad because I wouldn’t go,” thought 
Joe. “I’ll bet he’s makin’ up to me because he’s 
planning to borrow my dollar a week. Nix!” 
Joe knew that Dick’s was a forcible kind of bor- 
rowing that meant no return. “That’s why he’s 
soft-soapin’ round. Never asked me to the movies 
before. Well, he won’t be round to bother to- 
night.” And he put together the parted Essen- 
tials of Latin, and found the page. 

Dick gone, there was no distraction to keep him 
from studying. He was surprised to find how 
easy it came, after going over it with Roy. He 
tried Roy’s method of study as a sort of experi- 
ment. It went so well that he tried it on his alge- 
bra and his biology. It worked like a charm. 
The clock struck, and struck again; Joe never 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE’S DOLLAR 51 


heeded. He used to time himself, and never per- 
mitted himself to run over the thirty minutes the 
school expected him to give to each study. If he 
couldn’t finish a lesson in the required time — why, 
so much the worse for the lesson ! 

Mr. Darby smiled over his pipe. ^^Boys is 
quare critters,” he meditated. “Look a’ that, 
now!” Joe found he had some time left over, so 
he turned back to the first page of the Essentials 
of Latin and began reviewing from the be- 
ginning. 

At last he was interrupted by an irrepressible 
laugh from Sis. He looked up, as if just awak- 
ened from a dream, and went in at her command. 

“Oh, Joe, you’re a funny boy!” she laughed 
merrily. “I’ve had my supper, and a nap, and 
I’ve been watching you for a full half-hour by the 
clock. And you’ve never looked up once.” 

“I’m goin’ to keep this job,” he said, doggedly, 
remembering what it meant to Sis. 

As if she read his thought, she reached out a 
thin hand and clasped his. 

“I heard what you said to dad — about that 
dollar—” 

“Oh, forget it!” he interrupted. 

“I wish I could go to the country — next sum- 
mer!” Here it was only November, with a late 
autumn still lingering: and the patient little girl 
was already looking forward hopefully to “next 
summer.” 


52 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


not going to make you feel uncomfortable 
by saying — Ob, what I’m not going to say,” as 
Joe grew red and would have bolted. ‘‘Only — 
don’t you think it’s fair, if I get the benefit, I ought 
to help you — if I could. CouldnH I hear you re- 
cite things, and help you study, some way? It 
would be such fun — ” 

Joe thought of poor little Sis, in bed all day 
long, and felt decidedly “wiggly inside,” as he 
expressed it, at her idea of fun. 

“But, Sis,” he giggled, “I don’t see where the 
fun comes in.” 

“You don’t know how good it would seem to be 
some use to somebody,” in spite of herself, her 
tones were full of longing. 

Joe privately didn’t think much of a girl’s help 
in Latin. But he humored her, as he always did. 

“Sure you can help. I was just reviewin’ 
words. S’pose you tell the English, an’ see if I 
know the Latin.” He brought the battered book, 
and turned to page 1. 

“Latin! Oh, my!” she was so awed at his 
superior wisdom that he went up several pegs in 
his own estimation. 

“And you keep a pencil handy, and any word 
you don’t know you put down.” 

“Sis, you’ve got some furniture in your attic,” 
he cried, in real admiration. He never would 
have thought of that particular trick in a hundred 


WHAT BECAME OF JOE’S DOLLAR 53 


years; and this time it was Sis who went up in 
his estimation. 

‘ ‘ Look-a-here. D’ye know what time it is?” 
broke in Mr. Darby’s voice, after they had worked 
for some time, with many delays while Joe stopped 
to use the very necessary pencil. 

‘‘Goodness! ’Leven o’clock! I mustn’t keep 
Sis awake,” cried Joe. 

“But I had a nap after supper, and I can sleep 
as late as I want to in the morning. Bo do it 
often, Joe. It’s lots of fun. Shall we go from 
here to-morrow?” she asked eagerly. 

“Only Lesson Ten?” asked Joe in some sur- 
prise, as she showed him the page. 

“We had to stop so many times, you know,” she 
said, slyly. “Let’s see how many words you 
didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t number ’em,” muttered Joe. He had 
hoped she wouldn’t ask for the list. 

“Well; I can count.” Her inexorable hands 
demanded, and received, the fatal paper. Out of 
ten lessons, with an average of a dozen words to a 
lesson, Joe found he didn’t know — ^fifty-one of 
them ! 

“But some o’ those — didn’t know just the 
gender. That ain’t fair.” 

“Yes, ’tis,” said Sis, firmly. “You either know 
’em, or you don’t. Half or quarter doesn’t 
count.” 


54 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Joe was so tired that night that it was two 
o’clock before he could go to sleep. As if that 
wasn’t enough, his father had given him a prob- 
lem to solve that had helped keep him awake. 

‘^Joe!” he said, suddenly and sharply, as they 
happened to be alone in the kitchen for an instant. 
‘^Whatr’ 

‘‘I want ye to mind this,” Mr. Darby’s voice 
was fearfully earnest. ye — tell — Dick — 

where that there feller lives!” 

^‘Why-y — ^why should he want to know?” 

‘‘Humph! Mind what I say now. Don’t let 
him worm it out o’ ye, or trick it out o’ ye, or 
scare it out o ’ ye ! ” 

“You don’t think — ” began Joe. He couldn’t 
utter the thought that had entered his head. 

“I ain’t no business thinkin’, ner you ain’t, 
neither. Quit it. Only mind what I say. ’ ’ 

And Mr. Darby took up his pipe again, to show 
it was a closed matter. 


CHAPTEE V 


PLUNGING IN 

J OE awoke the next morning, for the first 
time in his life eager to go to school. He 
washed and dressed rather more elabor- 
ately than usual — that is, he splashed about an 
enormous amount of water and soap, and sur- 
prised the family at breakfast with his clean shirt, 
bright necktie, and hair plastered down in a most 
unusual fashion for him, Joe hated clean shirts: 
generally his mother had to argue, coax, wheedle, 
or — most successful method — coerce by abstract- 
ing the one he had been wearing, so he had to take 
a clean one from the drawer. 

^^Good morning. Little Stranger. What you 
got on your hairT’ shouted Dick. ^H’d never 
know you. ’ ’ 

‘^Soap, and lots of it,’^ responded Joe, cheer- 
fully, with the equanimity of one at peace with all 
the world. 

should say so. It’s fairly sticky,” and Dick 
undid Joe’s morning work by ruffling it with un- 
necessary thoroughness and violence. 

Joe was so cheerful that he even smiled under 
this. ‘‘Now you look like a wet cat, instead of a 
licked kitten,” commented Dick, trying to add 
55 


56 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


insult to injury; and indeed, Joe did look comical: 
for the thick soap stuck various strands together, 
and made them point stiffly in all directions. 

For the first time in his life, too, Joe — having 
privately slicked his hair down again till it shone 
like a well-groomed horse’s sides — started for 
school ahead of time ; ran instead of walked ; and 
whistled instead of glowering dismally. 

For the first time also, he carried the comfort- 
able knowledge that every lesson was done. Joe 
was surprised to find what a good feeling inside 
that simple fact gave him. There was nothing to 
dread, nothing to worry about. No longer need 
he calculate whether Geometry Jones (so named 
because of her angular build — and disposition — 
as well as the subject she taught) would begin on 
the near or the far side of the room, and whether 
she would get to him; or whether he would be 
called on for one of the two Latin sentences he 
had done, or one of the thirteen that he hadn’t. 
There was no fear of being ‘‘picked off by the 
enemy” any more. 

He reached school just as the gates were un- 
locked — he who had been late nine times the 
previous term! He was to wait for Roy in the 
front hall. But when he sat down on the visitor’s 
bench in the hall, he found the suspicious janitor 
— who knew Joe Darby of old — ^would have none 
of it. 

“That’s the visitor’s seat — clear out. You’ve 


PLUNGING IN 57 

got no business anywhere but in your room/’ he 
snarled. 

‘‘I have to wait here, honest, for the new blind 
boy. I’m his guide. He comes in the front door, 
and I have to meet him here,” protested Joe — 
none too gently, it is to be feared. To be put out, 
in that rough way, when you had a right — ! 

‘‘Half to nothin’,” the janitor replied. *'You 
guide to a poor chap that can’t see ! You’d guide 
him into trouble, all right.” Here he became pug- 
nacious, and grabbed his broom-handle like a 
bludgeon. ‘‘Clear out o’ here, or I’ll r-r-feport 
ye.” 

And just at this critical moment Dr. Cunning- 
ham entered the front door. 

“ Good-moming, Darby,” he said, cheerfully. 
“It’s all right, Mr. Growling. This boy has 
special permission to wait here every morning till 
the blind lad comes. But you’re here early, 
aren’t you, Joe?” 

“I thought Eoy would probably be early, sir. 
I didn’t want him to get here and not find me.” 

“Then you don’t go for him in the morning?” 

“No, sir. His father’s oflSce boy lives near, and 
brings him mornings on the way to work. But I 
take him home afternoons, and then stay and help 
him study.” 

“I see. That’s a good arrangement.” Dr. 
Cunningham vanished into his office with another 
smile : and “Wow!” thought Joe, “wasn’t it great 


58 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


to have the principal speak to a feller like 
— friendly and smiling and interested. He got 
another shock of the same pleasant kind when Miss 
Scott came and said good-morning in precisely as 
friendly tones. She smiled even more, to herself, 
as she passed out again, and saw Joe, oblivious 
to everything, with his book open, studying. 

Roy came fairly early. Joe was glad, for he 
had had an encounter that vexed him. In came 
Miss Seymour — the one teacher of the previous 
term for whom he had cared to behave. She 
looked at him inquiringly, and then went over to 
him. 

‘‘You^re not in trouble again, are you, JoeT’ 
she asked reproachfully. How happy Joe was to 
be able to look up unashamed, and answer, 

‘‘No’m, I’m not. I’m goin’ to be guide to the 
new blind boy. I’m waitin’ for him.” 

Really f” she said, enthusiastically. ‘Hsn’t 
that fine ! How did such good fortune happen to 
fall to you ? ’ ’ 

What Joe liked about Miss Seymour was, that 
she never kept giving him sly verbal digs at his 
reputation. In her last question, there had been 
no sneer nor slur, as some people might have said 
it: only hearty congratulation. How proud Joe 
was to answer, 

“Dr. Cunningham did it — dunno how — ” 

“Isn’t that fine! — to be chosen for that — to be 
trusted with somebody helpless! Come and tell 


PLUNGING IN 


59 


me how you get on, and bring him with you.^^ 
She left him with a smile and a nod. 

“Bet I will!^^ thought Joe. Then Geometry 
Jones stood before him. 

“What^s this I hear about you?^^ her acid tones 
contrasted with Miss Seymour ^s kind ones. ^^You 
going to be guide to a poor helpless blind boy! 
How did that ever come to happen to you !'' — 
almost Miss Seymour ^s words, but how different. 
“Well, I^m sorry for him, that^s all! I canT see 
how they ever permitted it,^’ and she flounced 
away. 

“Yah!’’ said Joe to himself. “That’s right! 
Hit a feller when he’s down and tryin’ to climb 
up!” Worse than Miss Jones’ words, was the 
fear that others would think the same, and would 
not hold their tongues in Boy’s presence — that 
Boy would learn that his guide — whom he had 
treated in such a friendly, trustful fashion — was 
“tough Joe Darby,” the bad boy of the school. 
“Oh, he mustn't find it out!” thought Joe, clench- 
ing his fists. Then he thought of Mrs. Manners’ 
words and his anxiety increased. “I can lick the 
fellers, all right,” thought poor Joe, “but I can't 
lick Miss Jones nor Mrs. Manners!” 

Boy came at last, and greeted J oe joyfully. Joe 
dreaded the first ten minutes before school began, 
when his old friends would come up to him and 
perhaps let fall some of the truths Joe didn’t want 
Boy to know. But, for to-day at least, that worry 


60 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


slipped by. As soon as they had entered the room 
— before any one had time to say anything — Miss 
Scott called Roy and Joe to her, and took all the 
time till the bell rang getting information about 
Roy that she needed for her records, and asking 
about his studies at the other school. 

So Joe was safe from his friends’ questions for 
two whole periods, till the 10.30 recess. That had 
always seemed a long way off at nine o ’clock ; but 
now it seemed threateningly imminent. 

Yesterday it had seemed very hard to keep his 
mind from wandering during the long forty min- 
utes of Latin and of Algebra. To-day he was 
astonished to find how easy it was. Another 
astonishing thing was the fact that everything his 
teachers said meant something to Joe. This con- 
nection between what they said and what he knew 
was at first a most astounding fact. When Joe 
was called on — not as though he was expected to 
know the answer, but because Miss Jones was 
going down the alphabetical list in her book, get- 
ting a recitation-mark for each pupil — Joe sur- 
prised every one, except Roy, by rising and giving 
a perfect recitation. Miss Jones actually rose 
from the teacher’s desk and walked over to the 
aisle where Joe was sitting, and looked at him 
with eagle eye. Joe knew she expected he had a 
text-book hidden where he could “refresh his mem- 
ory”; and he thought she seemed disappointed 
not to catch him. 


PLUNGING IN 


61 


At the ten-minute recess, the class counselor and 
representative came over to introduce themselves 
to Roy. So Joe was spared any explanations this 
time. 

At noon, however. Jolly Saunders came to him, 
while Roy was busy talking to Miss Scott. 

‘‘In for a grind, heyU’ he asked, in a casual 
fashion. 

Joe was glad to declare his position openly. 
“Looks like it, doesn^t itU’ he answered, de- 
cidedly. 

“Can^t you ever have any fun any moreU^ 
asked Saunders, pityingly. 

“Depends on what you call fun,’’ replied Joe, 
stoutly. “Maybe earnin’ money’s fun to some 
folks.” 

“Or what you spend the money for, eh I” 

Like a flash Sis came to Joe’s mind. “You 
bet !” he answered; so emphatically that his friend 
wondered what it was Joe was saving up for. 

Simon Katz was his next encounter. Simon was 
the most lazy, mischievous, impudent, and mean 
boy in the class. “You’re a slick one,” he said. 

“Why?” demanded Joe. 

“Gettin’ a job like that. Bet you’re goin’ to 
let us have some fun with that feller soon’s he gets 
to trust you — ^yes!” 

“No, I’m not, you coward,” retorted Joe, en- 
raged. “Anybody that bothers Roy has got me 
to answer for it — understand, you little shrimp!” 


62 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Oh, yess, sure — I wass only joking, anyways,’^ 
apologized Simon, edging away. Joe knew he 
would report this to the rest of the gang, and he 
was glad that point was also settled. For Joe 
was the biggest and strongest hoy in the class, 
and they did as he said without question. 

“How easy it is!’’ he thought, as the day flew 
by and other days like it. He felt firmly en- 
trenched in his new position: his friends under- 
stood, and Roy had not learned of his previous 
reputation, either from pupils or teachers. 

Almost every day he learned something new 
from Roy. 

“Before we go home, I want to go to Miss Jones’ 
room,” said Roy one day that week. “You know 
which it is, don’t you!” 

“Oh, yes; but what are you going there for!” 
asked Joe. 

“Don’t understand these square-root things one 
little bit ; want to ask her to explain them. ’ ’ 

Joe’s jaw dropped in real amazement. He had 
found Roy right in many ways, the past week, on 
points where they disagreed; but he just couldnH 
be right this time. He’d never seen Geometry 
Jones’ face, so he couldn’t know. 

“You’re crazy,” he assured Roy. 

Roy laughed. ‘ ‘ N o w, why am I crazy ! ’ ’ 

“Go tell her you don’t understand!” 

‘ ‘ Why not ! ’ ’ 

“You’re not such a chump as to go and tell her 


PLUNGINa IN 


63 


you don’t understand something she’s taught 
you!” repeated Joe. 

‘‘Well, tell me why I shouldn’t!” 

“Why — ^why — ^then she’d know it. Keep dark, 
and maybe she’ll never notice. Or maybe you’ll 
catch on.” 

Eoy laughed heartily. “What is she there for 
but to explain if I don’t understand! You’ll see.” 

“I know Geometry Jones. You^ll see,” fore- 
boded Joe. 

But Roy was right. Eoy went in to her and 
explained that he didn’t understand, and would 
she please help him — and to Joe’s surprise she 
didn’t “snap his head off,” but went through the 
explanation so patiently and kindly that Joe 
realized that he hadn’t understood it before, but 
hadn’t known enough to know it. In three min- 
utes they were both working away at the board 
(Eoy could work on the board with help in read- 
ing) and Geometry Jones’ grim face actually bore 
a smile. 

Again Joe said “How easy it is!” It had, in 
fact, been so far so easy to do right, to break away 
from his old companions, and to shed his old repu- 
tation as if it had never existed, that he began 
to feel uneasy. Sometimes his uneasiness took 
the form of being ashamed because it was easier 
than he deserved; but again it troubled him as a 
worry about the future. “It just cm't keep up,” 
was his secret fear, “and then — ^what!” 


CHAPTER VI 


A NEW BOY 

T WO or three weeks passed in the same 
calm fashion. Joe worked hard in school, 
worked hard with Roy, and worked hard- 
est of all at home, studying and reviewing — mak- 
ing up all the things he had willfully neglected in 
the past. It would be impossible to say how many 
times Joe called himself a fool as he did this last 
penance. But it was Sis who helped him here — 
patiently, faithfully, encouragingly, — and inex- 
orably! He might fool himself into thinking he 
knew some rule; but he couldn’t fool Sis! 

Then — because habit is always stronger than 
desire — Joe began to chafe at the steady grind of 
hard work. Under the novelty of Roy’s ac- 
quaintance, the pride of earning money, the joy 
that this money gave Sis — Joe had plunged in and 
worked like a Trojan, as he had never worked 
before. But the novelty, the pride, the enthu- 
siasm, began to wear off presently; and Joe’s old 
habits of laziness and indolence began to assert 
themselves once more. Several times, when he 
saw the pages and pages of Latin to be learned 
before the end of the term, the pages and pages 

64 


A NEW BOY 


65 


of examples to be worked, the pages and pages of 
English to be read and written about — ^he caught 
himself wondering vaguely if it were all worth 
while. Sis again ! Of course it was worth while 
— for her. 

Then, too, he missed the fun he used to have 
with his old chums. Time and again he yearned 
to be with them, when he heard them planning 
mischief. He began to feel lonely and ‘^out of 
it^’ ; and he also felt hurt — though he would scarce 
own it to himself — that they had dropped him 
from their number so willingly, so completely, and 
so quickly. He could not forget that he had been 

tough Joe Darby, their leader; and he felt hurt 
that they could forget it so easily. 

Besides the work and the loneliness, there was 
another thing that tempted Joe sometimes to give 
it all up. The month’s trial was not up yet. Joe 
felt vaguely that Mrs. Manners did not wholly 
approve of him ; and he feared lest she should dis- 
miss him after all his struggling. There were 
many moments when only the thought of Sis and 
her fund kept him from ‘‘chucking the whole 
thing. ’ ’ 

Joe had not been stupid enough to think he 
could make this mighty change in himself without 
a struggle ; though he had not realized what a tre- 
mendous change it really was. But he expected 
the battle would be one quick, sharp, glorious 
charge, and soon over. He had not counted on a 


66 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


slow, inch-by-incli advance in darkness, with a 
weary struggle over every inch gained, and an- 
other weary struggle to keep it. Nor did he real- 
ize that there comes a place in every race or every 
struggle, where the breath comes with difficulty, 
and the only thing to be done is to keep on — 
doggedly, stubbornly — till the thing called ‘‘sec- 
ond-wind’’ comes at last, and the hardest spot in 
the whole course is passed. Joe had just now lost 
his first breath, and was struggling now for 
‘ ‘ second- wind. ’ ’ And again Sis helped, simply by 
believing in him. 

Boys drift in and out of the various schools as 
families move, or schools become crowded or 
emptied. Several changes had been made in Miss 
Scott’s class that term. Most of the newcomers 
were of the ordinary type ; but the last admission 
was different enough to make up for it. 

Into the room one day, bearing a yellow admit 
slip, walked a big fellow in long trousers. It 
didn’t seem to abash him, that he was as big and 
as old-looking as most of the school Seniors. In- 
deed, he seemed rather going to lord it over the 
“little fellers” on that very account! 

Joe didn’t like him from the first look. He had 
the same insolent, undisciplined, swaggering air 
that Dick had. He had nervous wrinkles across 
his forehead, and a nervous habit of moving his 
eyebrows up and down. His fingers were stained 
with nicotine, and he had the habit of snapping 


A NEW BOY 


67 


them repeatedly, as if he were a veteran crap 
player. Even as Miss Scott was questioning him, 
he was winking and grinning every time she turned 
away. 

He took the seat she assigned him, tossed his 
hooks into the desk as if they were of no import- 
ance, shot his cuffs up and down, stuck out his 
legs, pulled up his trousers, and whistled. Even 
the old “tough Joe Darby’’ never reached such 
heights of toughness. 

Like flies around a honey-jar, the new-comer — 
Foley was his name — ^was soon surrounded by all 
the fun-loving, mischievous, and disorderly boys 
of the class. He and Simon Katz had gravitated 
together before two minutes had elapsed, as surely 
as iron goes to a magnet. Before an hour had 
passed, Foley had his chance to show his colors 
out and out. 

It happened Miss Wheeler was absent visiting 
schools that day, and a substitute took her place. 
The substitute was young and inexperienced- 
looking. Foley measured her at a glance, and 
when she rapped for order he insolently kept on 
talking. 

Miss Scott had a seating-plan of the class on 
the desk; so the substitute located him, and said, 
^ ‘ Foley, you are talking. ’ ’ 

Foley looked around at his neighbors with a 
grin. “She knows my name,” he uttered, aloud. 

“Didn’t you hear me call for order?” 


68 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Foley rose with an expression of injured in- 
nocence. 

^‘He asked me a question and I had to answer 
it.’’ 

Foley’s friends guffawed. 

‘‘You had to answer it!” 

“Yes : ’twould be rude not to,” explained Foley, 
with elaborate innocence. 

Another guffaw. My, how he had drawn a fol- 
lowing in that short time! Yet his behavior was 
so perfect in its insolence, that Joe gave a chuckle 
and turned to look at him, too. 

Then he felt Roy stir, and he turned back. Roy 
gave a sigh, and said, ‘ ‘ Oh, have we got that kind 
here now! I left the other school because they’d 
take such nonsense.” 

Then Foley changed his innocent tone to a bel- 
ligerent one. 

“I wasn’t the only one talking,” he argued, 
impudently. 

“I didn’t say you were,” said the substitute, 
wearily. She had heard this particular brand of 
performance one hundred and one times in her 
career as substitute. 

“Well, I want my rights,” muttered Foley, 
aloud. 

The substitute was a person of experience. She 
ignored Foley’s remark, drew a pink card from 
her bag: inscribed it swiftly and said, “Come 
here.” 


A NEW BOY 


69 


Foley came: pretending to trip on a boy’s feet 
as be went up tbe aisle, and stopping to argue 
about it with tbe boy and with tbe substitute. 

‘‘Take this to tbe office.” 

Foley whistled a bar of “It’s a Long Way to 
Tipperary,” as be took it in bis band. 

“ ‘Silly and insolent behavior,’ ” be read aloud 
to tbe class in mocking tones. “That ain’t true. 
I ain’t silly, and I don’t know what insolent 
means. ’ ’ 

In this manner Foley contrived to have half tbe 
period wasted on bis worthless self. Joe felt Roy 
fairly wince at each fresh burst of insolence. 
‘ ‘ Oh, I wish be ’d quit, ’ ’ be murmured. 

At noon time Foley came in with a dead mouse 
on a string. After tormenting tbe girls by swing- 
ing it round among them till they were glad to seek 
refuge in the ball, Foley drew bis lieutenants 
together. By their glances at Miss Scott’s desk, 
and by bis own past personal experience, J oe knew 
pretty well what they were planning. 

“Is be going to put it in Miss Scott’s desk?” 
Joe asked tbe nearest plotter. 

“Sure thing,” laughed tbe other. “Won’t she 
be scared!” 

“See here,” Joe sprang up, forgetting every- 
thing but the way Miss Scott’s face looked tbe last 
time she had seen a mouse. “It won’t make her 
scared; it’ll make her faint, to see a mouse. I 
wouldn’t do that.” 


70 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘You wouldnT, would you, Parson,’’ mocked 
Foley. They were the first words he had ever 
spoken to Joe. “Makes her faint, hey? How do 
you know, anyway; tried it yourself? Wouldn’t 
miss doing it for anything now. Watch the door, 
some one.” And, while Simon Katz sprang to 
guard the door, Foley tried desk-lid and drawer 
till he found one unlocked, and thrust the mouse 
in. Then he luckily sauntered to the window, to 
see if she were coming. 

This was Joe’s chance. With a hound he had 
reached the desk, yanked open the drawer, 
snatched the mouse, and flung it through the open 
window to the yard, three floors below. 

“That’s a cowardly trick,” cried Joe, as Foley 
looked at him in blank amazement. ‘ ‘ To think it ’s 
fun to scare a woman. ’ ’ 

And just then, a moment later Miss Scott walked 
in the door. There was such a hubbub in the room 
Joe was sure she had not heard his words ; but she 
could not help seeing his position. 

“Joe Darby!” she exclaimed in amazement. 
“Did you open that drawer of my desk?” 

“Yes’m,” answered Joe, covered with con- 
fusion. 

“Well, I — ” she drew a long breath. “I can’t 
say what I want to, here and now. I will see you 
after school to-day.” 

Joe was torn between worry that she had heard 
his words to Foley, and worry lest she hadn’t. If 


A NEW BOY 


71 


she had — he hated to be ‘‘fussed over’^; if she 
hadn’t — he was up a stump, all right, through no 
fault of his own but a desire to help her. Opening 
a teacher’s desk during her absence was a pretty 
serious charge. And Joe couldn't tell why he had 
opened it ! 

Joe sat at his desk, in dismal gloom, as the rest 
filed out. He was worried, too, about keeping 
Eoy waiting. No knowing how long she would 
keep him in ! 

“Gittin’ your dose, sissy T’ sneered Foley, as 
he passed Joe. “Serves you just right.” 

Joe didn’t even look at him. The word sissy 
had sent Joe’s mind traveling off to his Sis, in 
bed at home, looking forward to next summer and 
the outing he was helping her get. And now! — 
of course, he would be deprived of his work with 
Eoy. Mrs. Manners, with all her diamond rings, 
wouldn’t have a boy around that opened a teach- 
er’s desk. 

Then he asked himself — could it be possible he 
had ever thought of giving it up of his own ac- 
cord? How could he have been such a fool ! How 
could he break it to Sis? — that the money she was 
counting on was lost ! 

Miss Scott beckoned him to her. 

“I just want to say — thank you. You know 
what for.” Joe blushed poppy-red. “I’ve told 
Dr. Cunningham about the improvement in your 
studies and everything” (wasn’t she a brick not 


72 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


to mention behavior, though they both under- 
stood) ^‘and he^s very much pleased. Don’t get 
discouraged, and don’t get tired of working; will 
you? Because — you can do it. It’s hard — even 
I don’t know how hard. But you won’t give up 
— will you ? ’ ’ 

‘‘No’m,” promised Joe. Then he basely es- 
caped. 

Joe felt glad, though, he had made that promise. 
He had promised himself the same thing a hundred 
times, but to promise some one else — ^particularly 
Miss Scott — ^meant you couldn’t fail after that. 

But he could not escape Foley so easily. From 
now on, Joe, or Roy, was the butt of Foley’s prac- 
tical jokes. Joe kicked himself over and over for 
bringing this onto Roy ; yet he could not quite see 
how he could have prevented it. For the next 
week, till he tired of it, Foley made Roy’s — and 
consequently Joe’s — ^life miserable by hiding his 
tablet and stylus. J oe told Foley without reserve 
what he thought of his meanness. Foley only 
laughed and sneered, or said impudently, ‘‘What 
are you going to do about it?” at some time, just 
before the bell rang, when Joe had no opportunity 
to do anything, no matter how much he ached to 
show what he felt like doing to him. 


CHAPTER Vn 


THE FIGHT 

J OE felt sure things would come to blows be- 
tween Foley and himself before long. 
Judging Foley by Dick, of whom he made 
Joe think time and again, Joe felt sure; judging 
Foley by the threats he had uttered about Joe to 
‘‘his crowd, Joe felt doubly sure. Yet he was 
surprised that he didnT particularly worry about 
it, although Foley was far bigger and heavier, 
older and stronger, than he. 

Joe had hoped it would come sometime when 
Roy was not under foot. But as that was a some- 
what unusual situation, he was afraid it would not 
happen that way. 

He had no idea, however, of the state of atfairs 
in the Foley camp. He did not know that Foley ^s 
vanity, arrogance, and bullying ways had already 
made many of his followers a bit tired of him. 
Nor did he know that Foley, seeing it, felt the 
truth — that careless, good-humored, jolly Joe 
Darby, whose place as leader he had taken, had 
been better liked than he. This made Foley decide 
that a fight between himself and Darby, ending in 

73 


74 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Darby’s ignominious defeat, would please the boys 
and bring them back to him; and was therefore 
eminently desirable. 

The occasion came sooner than either Joe or 
Foley had counted on it. Joe was going home 
with Roy at the close of school, arm in arm, as he 
always guided him. Foley happened to come out 
of school just behind them, and apparently fol- 
lowed. Joe could hear his voice behind, and his 
nerves grew tense ; but he would not turn. 

The sidewalk was narrow, with a strip of mud 
on each side of the pavement. Joe guessed that 
Foley would try to pass, as an excuse to jostle 
them. He did so, choosing a time when they were 
alongside a muddy puddle, pushing between Joe 
and Roy, rowdy-fashion, so roughly that he sent 
them both into the water. Then he turned to jeer 
at them as they picked themselves up — Joe awk- 
wardly, and Roy helplessly. 

‘‘Don’t you do that again,” cried Joe, angrily. 

“Just listen: he says I shan’t do that again,” 
mocked Foley, laughing at Joe in sneering con- 
tempt. 

Joe glared straight into his eyes; and saw in 
them the same mean, contemptible, sneering look 
that he had so often seen in Dick’s eyes when he 
was ugly-mad. Joe saw what was coming. 

“And I’ll see that you don’t,” promised Joe, 
still more hotly. Nothing made him so angry as 
Foley’s — or Dick’s — sneer. 


THE FIGHT 75 

‘ ‘ Oy, yoy, ^ ' mocked Foley, still grinning. ' ' You 
will, will you ? ’ ^ 

For answer Joe wasted no more words — ^he was 
getting too angry to speak — ^but went for Foley 
and struck him in the face. 

The gasp of Foley’s friends was music in Joe’s 
ears. Foley was so big, so bold, that they dared 
not cross him; so they had no idea Joe would dare 
stand against him. 

Foley backed into the group of his friends. A 
buzz of excitement and encouragement fol- 
lowed. 

“Now give it to him, Foley.” 

“Show him who’s runnin’ things — ” 

“He hit you first — ” 

“Oh, I’ll make cat’s meat of him,” boasted 
Foley, who now seemed furious at Joe’s daring. 
“Do you want to fight?” he demanded, making a 
theatrical motion as if to take otf his coat. 

“That’s just what I mean,” answered Joe. 

“You want to start things here, so some of the 
teachers’ll come out and stop it.” 

“Go where you please. I’ll be there,” was 
Joe’s grim answer. 

It took but a moment to agree on a vacant lot 
with a high board fence, barely two blocks away. 
Towards this they started, Foley in the midst of 
his friends, Joe leading Eoy, but otherwise alone. 
The excited voices brought other boys like bees; 
till it was quite a crowd that made a ring on the 


76 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


uneven ground of the vacant lot. Foley flung his 
coat on a stone. 

When Foley started to strip off his coat, Joe 
realized what sort of an opponent he had. F oley 
looked at least eighteen. His body was fllled out 
like a man’s. Joe, though as tall as he, looked 
what he was — tall, overgrown, and big-boned, but 
only an awkward boy of fifteen. There was such 
a difference between them that one of Foley’s 
friends sneered, 

‘‘Ah, cut it out, Foley. Have a heart — he’s 
only a kid ! ’ ’ 

“If wants to,” answered Foley, with a simi- 
lar sneer. 

“You’re afraid,” retorted Joe, quickly. 

“If you’re goin’ to fight, where are your sec- 
onds? I want to do this the proper way. You’ll 
need ’em — to take you away afterwards. ’ ’ 

Joe’s heart sank, for the first time. Who was 
there in the school now, that would stand as his 
second? The better boys he knew would scorn 
him for what he had been; and of his old chums, 
those who were not followers of Foley would have 
nothing more to do with him because he had him- 
self cast them off. There would be nobody — 
nobody, to care whether he won or lost, or to cheer 
him on in the fight if he were gaining the advan- 
tage. Well, maybe if he licked Foley — If! 
There was no if about it : he’d got to ! 

“I shan’t be the one to be carried away,” an- 


THE FIGHT 77 

swered J oe ; and the bitterness in his heart came 
out in defiance of tone. 

‘‘Bully for you/’ said some one in the rear of 
the crowd. Joe shook back his hair and glared 
defiantly at Foley. And then the unexpected hap- 
pened. Bob Norris — a boy in 2A grade, and his 
grade representative in the student self-govern- 
ing body, pushed forward. He had never spoken 
to Joe before, except once in public reprimand. 

‘ ‘ See here, he ’s got to have seconds. Will you, 
Fulton? And you, McGinn? As representative, 
I’ve got to make myself scarce before it begins ; or 
I’d do it myself. But come back here a minute, 
will you. Darby?” 

Joe went to them: outwardly as calm and un- 
concerned as ever; inwardly feeling as if the 
world were turning topsy-turvy. 

“You ’re not afraid?” asked Bob Norris. “He’s 
a whole lot bigger than you,” he added, critically, 
measuring them both again, much to Joe’s irrita- 
tion. 

“No, I’m not,” answered Joe, emphatically; but 
not emphatically enough to convince himself. 

“But see here,” he added. “I’m not worryin’ 
about myself, but if— say, will you look out for 
Eoy here, and take him home if — ” 

‘ ‘ Sure, ’ ’ said the three in chorus. ‘ ‘ Don ’t think 
about that.” 

Then Bob Norris went on: 

“We want you to give him one walloping, that’ll 


78 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


shut him up. He thinks he can come here and run 
things. He ^s made too much of a nuisance of him- 
self. But we ’d rather have it a 1-B boy that does 
it; and you’re the biggest chap in 1-B. It’s up to 
you — for the school. And the school’s behind 
you. ’ ’ 

‘‘You bet it is,” echoed McGinn. 

“And lemme tell you one thing,” chimed in 
Fulton. “You needn’t be afraid of him.” 
demanded Joe. 

‘ ‘ Because / know he ’s nothing but a big, bluflSng 
coward. He’s a bully, and all bullies are cow- 
ards.” Fulton lowered his voice: “Go for him 
— sail into him from the start. He thinks his size 
has you scared.” 

“Yes, that’s right. Go for him at the begin- 
ning — and don’t let up till he’s licked so he’ll re- 
member it. ’ ’ 

Foley was now ready — his coat off, showing his 
big shoulders ; his sleeves up, showing a hard, big 
man’s arm. Joe looked slouchier than ever with 
coat off; and his big hands dangled awkwardly 
from his big-boned wrist. Joe wondered how 
much his seconds really believed of what they said 
to him, and how much was pure encouragement. 

“He’s a long time gettin’ ready,” sneered 
Foley. “Somebody get him a hot water bottle for 
his cold feet. Are you ready, kid, yet?” 

“I’m ready,” answered Joe, stepping into the 
ring. 


THE FIGHT 


79 


For a moment Joe was so excited that he felt 
as though some one were running pins and needles 
all over his face. He wondered if he turned white. 
He must have, for Foley stepped forward and his 
sneering smile broke over his face. That settled 
it. Joe rushed for him. 

Joe never remembered the details of that fight. 
He knew that at the first that smile of Foley ^s 
made him so angry that he fought madly and 
blindly; with the result that Foley, who, Joe be- 
lieved, had attended a prize-fight or two, and knew 
a few tricks of feinting and dodging — succeeded 
in getting a right to Joe’s eye, and a left to Joe’s 
body, that made Joe realize he must fight with 
more care. Then all of a sudden a feeling swept 
over Joe — a feeling that he was going to win. He 
couldn’t explain the how nor why of it. He 
couldn’t describe it; it wasn’t a proud, boasting 
kind of feeling — just a sureness. It made him 
stop his mad rushes and his futile arm-swinging, 
and think out how he was going to do it. 

Foley felt the change and grew warier. One 
of his tricks — that of scaring his opponent with 
his size and with his bluffing — had failed; and he 
felt, rather than knew, that his second trick, of 
getting his opponent angry with his sneers, would 
work no longer. While he drew back a bit, Joe 
reached him — once, twice, three times. Joe’s eyes 
met his — and Joe saw the unmistakable look of 
fear in them. 


80 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Why, it’s easy,” thought Joe. He didn’t 
know he said it aloud, but Foley’s face flushed a 
deep red, and he made a mad rush at Joe. Joe 
stopped him with one arm — then swung with the 
other — and Foley went down like a log. 

Till then, it had been an unusually quiet fight 
— no cheering, no cries of encouragement. But 
noise broke loose then. 

Foley’s seconds rushed into the ring. 

“Stand back — stand back,” they cried. “Give 
him the count. He ’ll be up before ten. ’ ’ 

“Sure,” said Joe, calmly, stepping back, and 
wiping his face with one arm : for he had got a tap 
on the nose early in the fray. 

But Foley didn’t rise at ten, although he tried, 
wildly; and at the word the ring was a ring no 
longer, but a wild mass of boys, all cheering like 
mad, and all trying to shake Joe’s hand. 

Joe couldn’t understand his own calmness. 
Ten minutes ago, he would have given worlds to 
have some one cheer his name and shake his hand. 
Now — ^he turned and fled as soon as he could to 
his two seconds. 

“How do I look?” he asked anxiously. He was 
thinking of both Mrs. Manners and Mr. Darby. 

Fulton laughed. ** That the first question he 
asks!” he said gayly. “Any one got a glass?” 

“I didn’t bring my vanity-box with me to-day,” 
answered McGinn, in lady-like tones that con- 
vulsed everybody around. “Anybody got any 


THE FIGHT 81 

face-powder to loan Darby be continued. ‘‘He 
doesn^t need rouge.’’ 

The rest laughed hilariously. Then “Smitty,” 
who carried a small glass in his pocket for the sole 
purpose of “throwing light on the subject” in 
Geometry Jones’ class, proffered that well-known 
article. 

‘ ‘ Golly, ’ ’ muttered J oe, as he saw his face : an 
eye fast-closing, a red nose, fast reddening, and 
a bruised jaw, fast blackening. His tone was so 
full of anxiety that McGinn asked sympathetically, 

“You won’t catch it at home, will you, for 
fighting?” 

“Likely,” answered Joe; but he was thinking 
of Mrs. Manners. 

“Then come around to my dad’s shop and let’s 
fix you up a bit,” offered Fulton. 

“Will somebody take Roy home?” asked Joe. 
Fulton’s offer would enable him to remove some 
of the marks of the fight, and to stay away till five, 
his usual time of coming home after study with 
Roy. 

“I will,” said Bob Norris, who had mysteriously 
appeared again on the scene with great sudden- 
ness. But he returned a moment later, saying, 
“He wants to see you first.” 

Joe went to where Roy was sitting. 

“I heard ’em yelling — wanted to yell myself — ” 
said Roy, awkwardly. He knew Joe got into this 
conflict over him, but he felt Joe wouldn’t want 


82 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


him to mention it. ‘‘So you’re going to throw me 
over to-day?” he asked. 

“If you don’t mind — Norris will help you study. 
He said so,” for Bob nodded as Joe spoke. 

“Honest — did you get so banged up you don’t 
feel — ” asked Roy. 

“Banged up! He could lick twenty Foleys all 
over again,” put in Bob. “But the ugly brute 
tried to mark his face all he could, and we’re going 
to repair him before he goes home.” 

“But Joe — you won’t get into trouble at home 
over this, will you?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I ’ll explain, ’ ’ answered J oe, easily. ‘ ‘ But 
you see, if your mother caught sight of me now, 
she’d never let you come within ten miles of me 
again.” 

Roy laughed. “I doubt that, seeing how it be- 
gan,” he said. His words were music in Joe’s 
ears. “But I’ll be good and go home. And I’ll 
make Norris tell me all about it on the way.” 

In the back room of Fulton, Senior’s, plumbing 
shop, they patched Joe up as best they could. 
But his damages, though not serious, were of the 
kind that demand time to make presentable. 
Foley had intended to mark his face, and he had 
succeeded. But, Joe thought grimly, Foley hadn’t 
planned those marks should be reminders of a 
Foley defeat. 

Well, it was over; and Roy was protected, and 


THE FIGHT 


83 


Foley defeated. Joe wondered what would come 
of it otherwise — at home, and with Mrs. Manners. 

Joe’s mother was not a bit consoling. She 
lifted up her hands, then lifted up her voice and 
wept. 

‘‘I’m feard your pa will have somethin’ to say. 
Why did you ever!” she wailed; and this was the 
burden of her plaints as she, in turn, tried to “ fix 
Joe up.” 

Presently Dick came in. He stared, then 
laughed. 

“Been fightin’T’ he inquired, with interest. 

“No; I’ve been playin’ marbles,” growled Joe. 
Dick reminded him too much of Foley. 

“Who won? Not you, by the looks,” he asked, 
without any delicacy about the question. 

“Did, too.” 

‘ ‘ Who ’d you fight ? ’ ’ 

“Feller in school — named Foley.” 

Here Dick grew excited. “Foley? Foleyt^^he 
demanded. “Not Pete Foley? Why, he belongs 
to our boxing-club. You never licked Pete 
Foley!” 

“That’s his name.” 

“I don’t believe you ever whipped Pete Foley.” 

Joe’s grin was too positive to be mistaken. 
“Ask him/* he said. 

“Well, you’ll catch it all right, for fightin’, when 
the old man comes home,” exulted Dick. 

Joe took his books and retired to the front room. 


84 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Dick’s repetition of his mother’s words made him 
feel uneasy: though he knew one arose from 
malice, and the other from solicitude. However, 
his heart did give an extra thump as he heard the 
slam of the door, and, a moment later, Mr. Darby’s 
voice. Joe sat still, not wanting to go out till he 
had to; though he could be sure Dick would tell 
the tale. 

A ring at the bell startled them all. Joe heard 
his mother press the button that opened the front 
door, four flights down. But the bell rang again, 
long and continuously. 

‘ ^ Joe ! Joe ! ” called Mr. Darby. ‘ ‘ Go see what 
’tis.” 

‘‘I’m goin’,” answered Joe. But he went into 
the hall by the front way, instead of going through 
the kitchen. A wild thought entered his head that 
perhaps Foley had brought a policeman to arrest 
him. 

The postman’s whistle blew long and noisily 
below. “Darby! Darby! D-a-a-r-r-rby, ” he 
shouted. 

“Coming,” answered Joe. What could it be? 
They never received letters from any one. 

“Special delivery for Darby,” called the voice 
below. “Two of ’em. One for John Darby, one 
for Joe Darby.” 

Joe took them. They were alike, on dainty 
scented paper that made Joe think immediately 
of Mrs. Manners. 


THE FIGHT 


85 


She’s written, firing me,” he thought, bitterly. 
‘‘After doin’ it all for him, too. She wouldn’t 
write to me for anything else.” 

He was so occupied with thoughts of the letters 
that he forgot how he looked, and entered the 
kitchen. 

“Howly Moses,” cried Mr. Darby. “What a 
mug ! Been fightin ’, hey 2 Fergit what I told you 
about fightin’ r’ 

Joe passed him his letter silently. He felt he 
was dismissed by Mrs. Manners, and nothing 
further seemed to matter. Mr. Darby tore the 
envelope across with a huge thumb, and read it 
slowly, with a nod or two and a glance at Joe. 

“Why don’t ye read yours?” he demanded at 
last, with a grin. 

Joe gazed at his own letter open-mouthed. He 
had forgotten it. He tore it open and read : 

My dear boy, 

I have just learned the whole story from Bob Norris — of 
how you fought so bravely against a boy bigger than your- 
self, and of why you fought — for the sake of my son. I shall 
not try to thank you now for it. Bob tells me how badly 
you were bruised, and how you would not come home with 
Roy for that reason. As Bob reports there was something 
said among the boys about your getting into trouble at home 
because of your fighting — for Roy! — I am writing a letter to 
your father, which I shall send special delivery, with this. 

Let us see you to-morrow without fail. Roy must not miss 
his usual study hour, you know, — 


86 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


Joe looked up with a sigh of relief, 
eyes were twinkling. 

‘‘There be fights — and fights/^ 
Darby, with concise eloquence. 


His father ^s 
observed Mr. 


CHAPTER VIII 


SUKETY 

J OE went home with Roy for his first lesson 
after the fight, in much trepidation. His 
face still looked battered; and though he 
was not now afraid of being dismissed because of 
that, he was afraid of either shocking Mrs. Man- 
ners by his appearance, or of bringing down her 
pity so that she would ‘^make a fuss’’ over him. 
Joe, like all boys, hated a fuss of that kind, — 
especially when it was something where he de- 
served it. 

He was glad she wasn’t there to greet them when 
they entered. They went straight to Roy’s room, 
where they had luncheon, and then started to study 
as usual. 

Joe was gratified and touched at the almost 
pathetic eagerness with which Roy received him. 
‘‘Somehow, you and I seem to work together so 
easily,” said Roy. “I couldn’t get used to any 
one else.” 

A great hope sprang up in Joe’s heart. Did it 
mean — ^but if it did, he’d have to have an inter- 
view with Mrs. Manners; and that was Joe’s chief 
87 


88 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


dread just at present. He would even have chosen 
uncertainty, than certainty delivered with ‘‘a 
fuss.’’ 

By and by he began to breathe more easily. But 
he was not to escape; for presently Roy’s mother 
entered. 

Joe shifted in his chair and turned his face 
away; but she went straight for him, with out- 
stretched hand. Yes: she did hesitate a second 
in shocked surprised when she saw his battered 
face! 

‘ ‘I’m so glad you’re back. Roy has missed you. 
No, Roy, I’m not going to make a fuss over him — 
though why he should act ashamed of those ‘hon- 
orable scars’ is more than I can see,” she laughed; 
for Joe still kept his head turned and his eyes 
down. “But perhaps he won’t mind my saying 
this — how safe and secure I feel now about Roy, 
knowing he is with some one so strong and brave. 
Then there’s something more I want to say. We 
started a month on trial, so that either of us could 
withdraw if we wanted to. ” (Joe ’s heart began to 
beat fast with hope.) “If Joe is willing, I’d like 
to have things settled, though the month isn’t quite 
up yet. What about it, Joe? Do you want to 
keep on what you’re doing for the rest of the year 
— perhaps longer?” 

“Yes’m, ” Joe had to clear his throat several 
times before he could find his voice. The rest of 
the year — perhaps longer ! 


SURETY 89 

doesn’t make it too hard for you with your 
studies?” 

^‘Oh, no’m. You see, I ’most get my lessons 
when I help Roy.” 

‘‘But s’pose it means a fight like that every now 
and then?” put in Roy, teasingly. 

“ ’Twon’t. Foley’s settled,” answered Joe, 
seriously. “There ain’t another chap in school, 
’sides him, so mean he’d plague you.” 

‘ ‘ Then we ’ll consider it decided, shall we ? And 
I won’t interrupt your work any more.” 

Roy slapped Joe’s shoulder. “Good for you. 
I’m glad, for one.” 

“Me, too,” answered Joe. But besides this, he 
was counting up in the back of his head the number 
of weeks there would be before June 30. He 
would earn thirty whole dollars for Sis before 
school closed. And she had called his ugly bruises 
‘ ‘ Honorable scars ! ’ ’ 

Joe went home on light heels that night. He 
would tell Sis first of all, he resolved. Wouldn’t 
she be glad I She would be sure now of that won- 
derful vacation in the country she had been plan- 
ning on for years. How she longed for it ! And 
what a lot of good it would do her! How 
she would smile, too, at Joe’s “honorable 
scars ’ ’ ! 

But as he drew near the door, he heard loud 
voices in altercation. One was his father’s; the 
other, Dick’s. 


90 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘^He^s fourteen — ^he can get working-papers.’’ 
This was Dick’s voice. 

Joe pricked up his ears. They were talking 
about him. And Dick was apparently urging his 
father to take Joe out of school and put him to 
work. A month ago, Joe would have rejoiced at 
escaping from school. Now — ‘‘After all my try- 
ing to make good at this job,” thought Joe bitterly* 
“The way I’ve stayed in, evenin’s — the way Iv’ve 
worked, studyin’. Just the very day I’m told it’s 
sure! Well, he won’t make much, doin’ it. I’ll 
act as Dick acted, and lose my jobs or I’ll quit, the 
way Jack did. What’s dad sayin’ — ” 

“7 know he ’s over fourteen, and can get workin’- 
papers, as well as you do,” answered Mr. Darby, 
in gruff tones that told Joe absolutely nothing 
about his attitude in the matter. 

“Then why don’t you? We need the money 
bad enough. You didn’t keep me wastin’ my time 
in school, did you?” Dick was angry now, for his 
voice had a snarl in it. 

“No,” agreed his father. And again Joe could 
learn nothing from his tones. Yet if Joe remem- 
bered aright, Dick had been invited to leave school 
— ^by the school 1 

“Then why do you let him loaf when you 
wouldn’t let me ? Are you going to make him earn 
his keep, or aren’t you? That’s what I want to 
know! He’s old enough!” 

(“Loa//” thought Joe: when he worked till five 


SURETY 


91 


with Roy, and did his own school work all evening 
after dinner. Why, he hadn^t been to the movies, 
or off with the gang, except on Saturdays, for a 
month — since he had been with Roy!) 

Joe was listening anxiously for his father’s 
answer, when Mary and Lizzie, his two small sis- 
ters, came running up the stairs behind him, and 
he had to open the door and go in. Joe glanced at 
Dick and his father. Dick looked just as his loud 
voice had foretold : angry, with a scowl on his face 
and a sullen glare in his eyes. Mr. Darby, smok- 
ing his pipe in fierce, short puffs, as he sat by the 
kitchen stove, met Joe’s glance with one of his 
own — a measuring sort of look that sent Joe’s 
heart down into his boots. ^ ‘ He is goin’ to put me 
to work ! He never looked at me like that before 1 ’ ’ 
thought poor Joe. And he waited for the com- 
mand that would set at naught all his struggles for 
the past month. 

But none came. Mr. Darby spoke no word to 
Joe ; and Joe dared not broach the subject. Even 
uncertainty was better than knowing. Joe flung 
his books down — a good, thick pack — and started 
into Sis’s room. He always greeted her the first 
thing when he came in; and to-day he had good 
news to tell her — ^no, he couldn’t, till he knew about 
this new difficulty! 

‘‘Lemme see them books. What are ye 
studyin’?” asked Mr. Darby, suddenly. 

Joe’s hands grew cold. Never before had Mr. 


92 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Darby asked about, or cared about, Joe’s school 
work, save in the periodical unpleasantnesses w^hen 
he had had to sign Joe’s report card. Joe undid 
the strap, and passed them to him with averted 
eyes, feeling that things were different — strangely, 
terribly different. 

‘‘Here. Wait,” he bade, roughly, as Joe would 
have passed on to see Sis. ‘ ‘ Tell me about ’em. I 
want to know what ye’r doin’.” 

Mr. Darby opened Joe’s Latin book. 

“ThaUs Latin,” explained Joe, timidly. 

“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Darby. 

“It’s a — a language,” faltered Joe. 

“Who speaks it?” 

“Nobody now. They used to, once — ” Joe’s 
voice trailed off into silence. 

“What good’ll that do ye, then?” grunted Mr. 
Darby. “Howcome ye to take it?” 

“Why — I dunno. All our class from elemen- 
tary school took it, so ’s to be together. ’ ’ 

“Read it in English,” commanded Mr. Darby. 

“I — I can’t read that. We haven’t got so far. 
We’re only in Lesson 45 for to-morrow,” faltered 
Joe. 

“What an awful lot we know!” sneered Dick. 

Mr. Darby picked up the next. “ H ’m. What ’s 
this ? ’ ’ 

“M-my algebra book.” 

‘ ‘ What ’s them lines ? ’ ’ 

Joe’s heart fell as he saw his father had opened 


SUEETY 


93 

the book at the very last chapter, where he knew 
the Seniors were studying. 

dunno. That’s what we learn when we’re 
Seniors. We’re on page 100 for to-day.” 

^‘Uh-huh!” grunted Mr. Darby, again, without 
bothering to look at page 100, Joe noticed. And 
‘‘Humph! Smarty!” echoed Dick, from his 
comer. 

“That’s my Biology book,” ventured Joe. Mr. 
Darby found some of Joe’s drawings on loose 
sheets of paper and looked at them. Joe wished 
he’d been more careful — they were the very first 
drawings of the term, made in his old, careless way 
before he knew Eoy; smudged with much erasure, 
and marked in the comer with a big red D — ^the 
lowest passing mark. 

“Oh, see the pretty bug on the pretty flower,” 
mocked Dick, as Mr. Darby turned a page of the 
chapter on Insects. 

“That’s the cabbage-butterfly, showing pollina- 
tion — ” began Joe, hopefully. Here was some- 
thing he did know. But his father slapped the 
pages together, and handed all three books back 
to Joe without a word. Joe clumped away to Sis 
with rebellion in his heart. 

He knew he had made a poor showing, — just at 
the time when he needed so badly to make a good 
one; but it hadn’t been his fault; no, it hadn’t! 
Did they expect him to know all Latin and all alge- 
bra, just because he’d studied them one term! 


94 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Was I right whispered Sis, smiling. 

“Eh? What about asked Joe, absently. 

“Don’t you remember? I said I was sure she’d 
speak to you to-day about engaging you for the 
rest of the year ? Didn ’t she ? ’ ’ 

“Much good it’ll be,” mumbled Joe. 

Her astonished face hurt him. “Why? Oh, I 
know.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Dick?” 
she breathed as he bent his head. 

“He’s been talking to father about keeping you 
in school so long. As if he would have stayed in 
school if he’d been paid for it! But don’t you 
worry,” she laughed. 

“What? Why?” demanded Joe, hoarsely. 

“Wasn’t I right about Roy’s mother to-day? 
Then I’m right about this. Ask him.” 

“I’d never dare.” 

‘ ‘ N ow, see here. W asn ’t I right about to-day ? ’ ’ 
she repeated, insistently. 

“Sure. But — ” 

“You’ll find I’m right again,” she said, wisely. 
Then, as Joe hesitated, somewhat impressed by her 
sureness, “Shall / ask him?” she suggested. 

“Oh — will you? — no, I won’t get behind a girl, 
either.” 

“Go ask right now!” she commanded. 

So Joe went out into the kitchen again; and, 
though the fact that Sis was listening was the only 
thing that nerved him to do it, and though Dick 
was still there, muttering, Joe said, 


SURETY 


95 

‘‘Went to Roy’s to-day. First time since the 
fight.” 

Mr. Darby slowly removed his pipe from his 
mouth. “Supposed so,” he grunted. 

J oe took a good grip on himself. 

“And Mrs. Manners asked me to do it for the 
rest of the year.” 

“M-m-m.” 

“I said — ” Joe was stuck fast. 

“What?” helped Mr. Darby. 

“I’d have to ask you first — about the whole year. 
I didn’t know — ^what you was intendin’ — I should 
do — Mebbe you meant I should — go t’ work — 
There’ll be thirty weeks till the end of June — 
thirty dollars — for Sis — ” 

“Tell her Vve no objections. Ifs her affair if 
she wants to hire a numskull like you,” answered 
Mr. Darby. Then, as Joe looked up with a world 
of relief in his face, he chuckled: ^‘So Dick here 
had ye worried, did he?” 


CHAPTEE IX 


DIAMONDS, EOSES, AND SIS 

** A EEN’T my hands grubby! WeVe been 
/% tumbling around on those dusty mats 

1 in the gym this afternoon, and I^d hate 
to insult your bully cake and sandwiches, Norah,’^ 
asked Eoy one day, as Norah set the inevitable 
tray on the table. 

‘‘A little soap and water wouldn’t do ’em any 
harm, Master Eoy,” answered Norah, candidly, as 
she started down the stairs. 

‘‘And yours must be in the same state, Joe,” 
added Eoy. 

“Worse,” said Joe, after a brief examination. 

“The wash-bowl’s right here,” said Eoy. 
“Come on.” 

There was a short passageway between Eoy’s 
room and the front one, his mother’s ; a passage 
just long enough to accommodate a marble bowl. 
Towards this Eoy led the way. “You first,” he 
bade, politely. 

Joe pushed up his sleeves and turned the faucet ; 
and then, 

“My stars!” he exclaimed. 

98 


97 


DIAMONDS, KOSES, AND SIS 

‘‘What’s the matter? I should have warned 
you that on washday the water ’s always extra hot. 
There’s some mysterious connection between 
them. ’ ’ 

But Joe was staring hard at something on the 
marble slab that supported the bowl. 

On it were lying three of Mrs. Manners’ dia- 
mond rings. Even in that dark corner they 
sparkled with little flashes of light. Joe’s 
thoughts were tumbling over themselves in his 
brain. 

“Lucky for her I’m not Dick! If I was Dick, 
I’d pocket them an’ say nothin’. But I’m not 
Dick — I couldn’t cheat Roy, an’ her, after they 
trusted me — But they’re worth a lot of money 
— enough to send Sis to the country all summer — ” 

“Your mother’s left her rings,” he blurted, 
hastily. He forced himself to speak, to save him- 
self from a grim temptation that would thrust 
itself upon him, against his will — especially when 
he thought of Sis. 

“She must have forgotten them when she 
washed her hands. Four of them, aren’t there?” 

“Three — ” 

“No, four. There must be another. Look 
around.” 

“There aren’t but three,” said Joe, looking 
wildly in the corner and on the carpet. It was 
almost as if he were being punished for his 
thoughts of a moment ago, by having them come 


98 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


true and rise up against him. ‘Ht isn’t fair,” he 
thought in protest, ‘‘when I didn% I thought of 
it, and didn’t want to — and I didnH,^* But he 
realized that the very circumstances which had 
tempted him, now made such an accusation very 
possible. 

But Eoy went out into the hall and called down. 
Joe heard Mrs. Manners answer, and a moment 
later she appeared. 

“I had put this one on, so I didn’t notice, by 
the feeling, that the rest were missing,” were the 
first words she said. Joe sighed with relief. The 
fourth one was accounted for; and, as he felt a 
great weight lifted, he realized how great that ugly 
fear had been. 

“Joe discovered them,” put in Eoy. 

Mrs. Manners gave him a grateful smile. ‘ ‘ Do 
you like them, Joe?” she asked, seeing that he was 
staring at them. 

“Yes’m. They’re beauties. They must be 
worth a lot. ’ ’ 

“That biggest one would pay Joe’s salary for 
— how long did you say, mater ? ’ ’ asked Eoy. 

“About five years,” she said, smiling at the way 
Eoy put it. 

“You’re awful careless, ma,” chided Eoy. 

“I’d trust Norah as I would myself; and Joe’s 
the only other person that comes up here. So I 
can be careless,” she answered. 

Joe felt a hot flush mount to his cheek. He 


99 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 

hoped she wouldn’t notice it. If she knew — if she 
only knew! Then he straightened up. He had 
fought that momentary temptation, and conquered 
it. He did deserve her trust. 

' Joe was glad Dick wasn’t home; for he could 
go in and tell Sis the whole story. Poor little 
girl ! She always drank in so eagerly every detail 
of the outside world that Joe brought in to her. 
None of the others seemed to care to talk to her 
much, but there was something about her helpless- 
ness that appealed to her big, rough, but soft- 
hearted brother. So now he had fallen into the 
habit of remembering things especially to tell her 
— funny things that occurred in school, or anything 
unusual that he saw. And her unconscious com- 
ments had helped Joe more than either of them 
dreamed. 

Joe had tried once to imagine what her life was 
like, shut in by four walls — no, by the four corners 
of her bed. He could hardly put himself in her 
place ; and when he had come to a dim realization 
of it, the thought oppressed him so that he tried 
to put it out of his mind as speedily as possible. 
‘‘Poor, poor little Sis!” he thought. “If I don’t 
tell her everything ! ’ ’ And from that time he had. 

She knew by now every detail of how Roy looked, 
and Mrs. Manners, and even Norah; she could 
describe the Manners house, the hall, the stairway, 
and the room where the two boys studied, better 
than Joe himself. 


100 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 

Joe hadn’t intended, however, to tell Sis about 
his temptation; but before he knew it, his tongue 
had led him too far to get out. 

‘‘And there they were. Why, I could have 
slipped them right into my pocket, easy as any- 
thing, and nobody been the wiser. And they were 
worth — hundreds of dollars!” 

“But, oh, Joe, you didn’t think of it, for a min- 
ute — did you? Did you think of it?” she im- 
plored. 

Joe’s eyes fell before her searching look. He 
never could lie to Sis. “Yes, I did for one sec- 
ond,” he confessed, honestly, “when I thought — 
how much vacation they’d buy for you.” A sec- 
ond later Joe was sorry he had said this. She 
clutched his arm in an agony of excitement. 

“Oh, Joe! Don’t you ever — ever — ever! You 
make me feel — oh, so bad!” She buried her face 
in her pillow, and Joe, trying to get close to hear 
what she said, slipped down on his knees beside 
the bed. “If you ever did such a thing, I wouldn’t 
take it — I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t! Promise, Joe, 
you’ll never — oh, think, if you were arrested and 
put in prison for stealing — a thief ! Oh, Joe ! ” 

“But, Sis, don’t take on so,” pleaded Joe. “Z 
didnH, I’m only tollin’ what I thought — for just 
a second. I just thought it — they didn’t tempt 
me. You asked me — ” Poor Joe was fairly 
frightened at the storm of tears and sobs he had 
aroused, and fearful lest it should make her ill. 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 101 

‘‘I’ll promise anything yon want me to, if it’ll 
make you feel better — ” 

Sis slowly drew a quivering face from the pillow. 

“You frightened me so! I know we’re poor; 
but, Joe, there are worse things than being poor 
— worse things than my not going to the country. ’ ’ 
She smiled a wan smile. “I do want you to prom- 
ise — ^not to do wrong — ever — for me. Will you I” 

“Yes, Sis, of course,” responded Joe, earnestly. 

‘ ‘ And that ’s a promise ? An honest-to-goodness 
promise?” 

Joe rose to his feet and stood very straight. 
Then he bent down and kissed her — a thing he 
rarely was betrayed into doing. “Yes, it is. Sis,” 
he repeated. 

“Then I’m happy again!” She smiled, and 
patted his hand. 

J oe was not at all pleased to hear Dick’s mocking 
laugh break in upon them. How long he had been 
listening, Joe could not guess. Sis drew back her 
hand like a shot,, and Joe fled to the kitchen. 

But unwittingly he had fled straight into Dick’s 
presence. And Dick gave him a sneering grin 
which told Joe he had heard it all. 

“You’re a fine kind of a fool,” commented Dick. 
“You an’ your promise!” he sneered. “Well; I 
s’pose you think it’s only to a sick kid, and a silly 
girl at that, so it doesn’t make any difference. 
Wisht I’d had your chance to-day. Hundreds of 


102 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


dollars’ worth of diamonds, and a clear field. 
What a blame fool to let it go by. You wanted to 
do it,” as Joe looked indignant. “ ’Twas only 
because you didn’t have the nerve! Heard you 
say so, myself.” 

‘H’m no thief,” retorted Joe, with blazing eyes. 

‘‘Needn’t try to look so goody-good. Came 
near it, seems to me! Lots of other folks are 
goody-goods because they don’t dare do what they 
want to!” 

“ ’Tain’t stealin’, anyway,” persisted Dick, as 
Joe, determined on the wise policy of ignoring 
him, kept silent. “ ’Tain’t takin’ their bread an’ 
butter. Diamonds are luxuries, an’ they ain’t no 
right to ’em. Things orter be evened up between 
the rich an’ the poor. Rich folks have no right to 
more than they need. I hate rich folks. I’d like 
to blow them all up with dynamite ! ’ ’ 

“Would you divide if you were rich? Would 
you hate yourself if you were rich?” asked Joe. 
He had only recently realized the foolishness of 
such argument, and he was impatient of it in 
others. 

“Small chance of that!” answered Dick. Joe 
thought, to himself, that there surely was, if Dick 
kept on doing nothing as he had for the past two 
years. “All their money ought to be divided 
equally among everybody. The workers earn it 
for them to get rich on. ’ ’ 

Dick’s talk made Joe feel uncomfortable: as if 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 103 

he were somehow a traitor to those who employed 
him, even in standing by and letting Dick abuse 
them without defending them, or at least showing 
his own attitude. 

‘^IVe read we’d all get about four cents apiece 
if they did that,” laughed Joe, glad he had hap- 
pened to remember that statement. ‘‘If you had 
a hundred dollars, would you give up ninety-nine 
dollars and ninety-six cents of it?” 

“Bah!” snarled Dick, who for once had no 
answer ready. Just then Mrs. Darby came home 
from market, and their talk was interrupted ; much 
to Joe’s satisfaction. 

Dick lounged about, however, with malice in his 
eye. Joe wondered what meanness he was plan- 
ning. When Dick looked like that, Joe had learned 
from experience, he was almost always planning 
to get Joe into trouble. 

Presently Mr. Darby came home. He went in 
to greet Sis for a moment, as he generally did. 
When he came out he was angry, — angrier than 
Joe had seen him for a long time. 

“Who’s been makin’ Sis cry?” he demanded. 
“Never can get it out o’ Joe saw Dick’s 

face light up with malicious joy, and, in a flash, 
he understood his mean scheme. “Have you been 
teasin’ her, Dick?” For sometimes Dick amused 
himself by deliberately annoying her to the state 
of tears. “If you have. I’ll make you sorry for 
it!” 


104 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘What are you always pickin’ on me for,” pro- 
tested Dick. “Joe made her cry. I heard him.” 

“Joe?” repeated Mr. Darby in surprise; for 
Joe’s fondness for Sis was a by-word in the fam- 
ily. He had never been known to tease her. 

But Joe was standing with a red face, embar- 
rassed and confused. Wasn’t it mean of Dick to 
put it that way — when he knew Joe couldn’t and 
wouldn ’t explain ? 

“You see!” prompted Dick, nodding at Joe; 
who indeed looked the picture of guilt. 

Now, teasing Sis was one of the few things that 
Mr. Darby was insistent about; and who could 
blame him? He turned to Joe, and saw his red, 
troubled face. “Did you make Sis cry?” he 
asked, with significant emphasis, which Joe under- 
stood perfectly. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Joe, slowly. What else 
could he say? 

Mr. Darby opened his mouth in astonishment. 
Then he made straight for Joe, seized him by the 
collar, and dealt him a staggering buffet on the 
side of the head. Joe caught himself against the 
wall, winked and shook his head, and stood per- 
fectly still. He knew from past experience that 
to dodge, or struggle, or even put up a shielding 
arm, only meant more blows. In silence he took 
two more, delivered with all the strength of those 
brawny muscles. 

“Now get out o’ here. Go sit in the front room. 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 105 

No dinner for you, to-night,^’ growled Mr. Darby, 
when he was through. He was puzzled and vexed 
at Joe’s unusual silence and meekness, as well as 
astounded and disappointed that Joe had begun 
to torment Sis — something which he had thought 
impossible. 

Joe turned in the doorway. He met Dick’s tri- 
umphant leer ; saw his mother in her old, familiar 
attitude — her eyes hidden in her apron; saw his 
father, still scowling at him, savagely. Yes, he 
had to risk it. His books were on the window-sill, 
beyond where his father was sitting. 

‘‘May I have my books?” he asked, in a low 
voice. 

“No!” said Mr. Darby, with an oath. “Git! 
Don’t ye speak to Sis, neither.” 

Joe turned without a word. He had to pass 
through her room. They couldn’t speak, but she 
reached out a thin hand and touched his as he went 
by. Bitterly, he thought — he had hurt her again! 

He dropped into a chair, and leaned his aching 
head on his hand. That Dick! Dick was surely 
a bad one : always trying to get him into trouble ; 
always talking about “World Brotherhood,” and 
being mean as dirt to his own brother; always 
talking about “capital grinding down labor,” when 
he had never done an honest day’s work in his life ; 
always talking about his “rights” and trampling 
over the rights of better — or weaker — ^people than 
he — even poor little Sis. 


106 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


And what about poor little Sis? It seemed to 
Joe as if every time he was bad, or weak, or even 
foolish — Sis bad to suffer for it. ’TwasnT fair, 
to poor little Sis. 

Then a tremendous thought came to Joe. If 
this were true, then if he — J oe — stopped being bad, 
or weak, or foolish, then Sis wouldnH have to 
suffer for it ! All to-day’s trouble had come from 
his momentary temptation with the diamonds. If 
he’d only been strong! Joe resolved on an ex- 
periment: he would try to do just as he ought, 
for her sake. 

Mrs. Darby came in with her supper. She cast 
a look at the lonely figure hunched up by the win- 
dow in the next room. 

‘‘Joe,” she whispered, “here’s a roll I brought 
in on Sis ’s tray. ’ ’ She tiptoed in and laid it down 
beside Joe, who bit into it eagerly. Since he was 
being punished for nothing, he argued, it was only 
fair to elude it if he could. Forgotten was his 
resolution of a moment ago. But he was reminded 
of it. 

Mr. Darby, still puzzled, and thinking he might 
have been mistaken about Joe — as well as realizing 
that he was interfering with Joe’s means of earn- 
ing money — chanced to come in at this identical 
moment, bringing Joe’s books. There was the 
half-eaten roll in Joe’s hand, and Joe lamely chew- 
ing as well as he could with his sore jaw. 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 107 

Mr. Darby threw the books to the floor and 
knocked the roll out of Joe’s hand. ‘‘ Wha’d I say 
about eatin M ” he exploded. ‘ ‘ I ’ll teach ye I ” 

Not three, but six cuffs were Joe’s portion this 
time. Like most arbitrary people, defiance was 
one of the things John Darby could not endure. 
Joe clenched his hands together, and resolved, for 
Sis ’ sake, not to make a sound. But he knew that 
Sis, in the next room, could hear the sound of Mr. 
Darby’s fist, and that at every blow she was winc- 
ing worse than Joe. 

‘‘Don’t — do it here — Sis — ” he gasped in a 
whisper, as, looking up imploringly, he met his 
father’s eyes. 

“I was bringin’ ye y’r books,” said Mr. Darby, 
puzzled again, and letting go of Joe. “But ye’ll 
do no studyin’ to-night, I’m thinkin’.” 

Left to himself again, Joe did some thinking. 
That was the way to do, wasn’t it ! he thought dis- 
gustedly : make a resolution and break it the very 
next minute! Didn’t he know he shouldn’t have 
taken that roll? And again Sis had paid for it 
worse than he. 

And he wasn’t to be allowed to study that night. 
When could he get his lessons? He needed those 
lessons, to help Roy in study-period the first thing 
next day. Well, if they couldn’t let him do his 
work, he wouldn't do it I He wouldn’t go to Roy’s, 
the next day, either. Of course, he could get up 


108 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


early the next morning — ^before five, when his 
father got up — and study then; hut he’d be hanged 
if he would — 

Joe caught himself up. What was he planning ! 
Hadn’t he seen enough of not doing as he should. 
Hadn’t he, that very evening, because it somehow 
came back on Sis, made up his mind to do as he 
ought? Hadn’t he broken that resolution within 
ten minutes; and hadnH it hurt Sis more? What 
would happen if he carried out his first mad plan? 
No! He would get up early, and study, and go to 
Eoy’s; avoid Dick, and win back his father’s ap- 
proval. Somehow he had begun to care about this 
last more than merely to avoid punishment. 
Those two times when Mr. Darby’s eyes had 
twinkled into J oe ’s, and they had spoken in perfect 
mutual understanding, were strangely precious to 
the boy. Joe was so sorry, though, that his father 
thought he would torment Sis. How could he per- 
suade him to the contrary? 

Everything went well the next morning. His 
mother remembered to wake him ; his father made 
no mention of last night’s events; his studying 
went like magic; and Eoy met Joe with a rose in 
his button-hole which he insisted in Joe’s taking. 
Joe took extra good care of it, planning to take it 
to Sis. She^d never seen a rose like that in all 
her life, Joe knew. 

But when he entered Eoy’s room that afternoon 
— ‘^My stars!” exclaimed Joe. 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 109 

For on table, mantel, and bureau were vases of 
flowers — roses and carnations, set off by huge 
fern-leaves. Their beauty made the room look as 
if ready for a fete, and filled it with perfume. 

‘^ArenT they — sweet-smelling!’’ Joe was go- 
ing to say pretty; but of late the habit had become 
fixed upon him, to put himself in Roy’s place be- 
fore he spoke, and to try not to speak of how 
things looked. 

^‘Yes, aren’t they? Mother gave a dinner last 
night to some old school friends visiting the city, ’ ’ 
explained Roy. ‘^Say; wonder if you and I will 
ever be givin’ each other dinners! Mater always 
brings the flowers up here afterward, so I can 
enjoy them,” Roy buried his nose in an American 
Beauty, and Joe was glad he had remembered. 
‘‘Then she sends them to the hospital.” 

A rebellious envy made Joe almost sorry he had 
been thoughtful of Roy’s feelings. Wouldn’t Sis 
like to look at just one of those beautiful flowers ! 
And these rich folks were going to bundle them 
off to people they didn’t know, like old clothes! 
Perhaps Dick was right about rich folks, after all. 

Joe hated that lesson; for all the time these 
thoughts kept turning in the back of his head. He 
couldn’t get away from the flowers by resolving 
not to look at them; for their odor permeated the 
room. And he thought it quite unbearable that 
the new vocabulary should include rosa, a rose, 
viola, a violet, and flos, floris, flower. 


110 BOY SCOUTS OP LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Mrs. Manners herself brought their apples and 
cake; looking particularly rich and high-bred, in 
some sort of a filmy blue dress. At that moment 
Joe almost hated her. 

‘‘Will it disturb you if Norah comes up for the 
flowers while you study U’ she asked. “Why, 
Joe; don’t you suppose your mother would like a 
bunch of these roses?” 

Joe blushed — ^first with embarrassment, then 
with shame at his secret thoughts. He was so con- 
fused that he blurted out, earnestly, “Oh — Sis 
would — ” before he thought. Wild horses 
couldn’t hitherto have made him talk about Sis 
to these folks. It would have been too much like 
begging charity. 

‘ ‘ Is Sis your sister ? ’ ’ asked Roy. Knowing Joe 
better than did Mrs. Manners, something in Joe’s 
voice made Roy curious. 

“Yes,” answered Joe, visibly shutting up within ' 
himself like a clam. 

“Maybe she’s going out somewhere soon, and 
would like to wear them. They ought to keep for 
several days,” continued Mrs. Manners in her 
gentle way. 

“She doesn’t go out,” Joe found himself say- 
ing; because he had to say something. 

“Doesn’t go out! Is she an invalid?” asked 
Roy’s mother, with real interest. So sincere was 
her voice, that Joe explained. 

“I should say she shall have some!” exclaimed 


DIAMONDS, ROSES, AND SIS 111 

Mrs. Manners. ‘‘I was going to send them to the 
crippled children in the hospital. Now this is 
much better, isn^t it — to some one we feel as 
though we knew. What do you think she’d like 
best, Joe? I’ll have Norah put them in one of the 
boxes they came in, while you’re working.” 

When Joe went home that night he was stagger- 
ing under two big, awkward florist’s boxes. But 
the evil thoughts that he had staggered under were 
wholly wiped out. No longer did he, like Dick, 
hate rich people because they were rich ; and how 
could he say they were heartless? So his heart 
was as light as his heels. 

And Sis? It isn’t hard to guess how Sis felt 
and acted: how she laughed and cried, in succes- 
sion, and then tried to do both at once ; and how 
she hugged the flowers, thorns and all. Then Mr. 
Darby came home; and this time he didn’t object 
to Joe’s making Sis cry. Instead, he looked at 
everybody, wearing a big rose, and said, 

‘‘Hey, Joe; everybody’s got a rose but me. 
Don’t I get one?” 

Joe, taking the biggest rose from his own but- 
tonhole, and putting it, with awkward fingers, into 
his father’s, felt that peace was declared again, 
and that his father had guessed about J oe ’s teasing 
Sis. 


CHAPTEE X 


THRILLEES 

'TE^RE not going to study this after- 
% /% / noon,” said Roy one day, after 
^ j luncheon was eaten. ‘^You won^t 
mind reading a story instead?” he asked, taking 
down a hook from the shelf with the sure fingers 
that Joe had not yet ceased to marvel at. 

Should say not,” replied Joe. He happened 
to be tired of study that day — having worked extra 
hard at it — and this came just at the right time for 
him; though he supposed it would be one of the 
stupid kind of stories that grown-up folks wanted 
you to read. 

But its name was Treasure Island — a proper 
name for a hoy's hook, Joe thought. He had won- 
dered what kind of books Roy read, since he was 
dependent largely upon his mother to read to him. 
This was all about pirates, and treasure on an 
island, and fights with the pirates to get the treas- 
ure. And its hero was a boy no older than Joe 
— though Joe was disappointed that he didn't be- 
come commander of the expedition, as did the 
heroes of Ms favorite tales. Roy and Joe had 
just got worked up to a tense state of excitement 
112 


THEILLEKS 


113 


as to Ms fate, when Joe heard Mrs. Manners com- 
ing. He stopped, and whipped the book under 
his chair. 

“What^s the matter T’ asked Roy, surprised at 
his stopping. 

‘‘Sh! IVe chucked it out of sight,’’ whispered 
Joe. 

Roy laughed outright. ‘Ht was mother that 
gave it to me, last birthday,” he said. 

Now Joe liked to read ; though books were scarce 
in the Darby family, and none of them ever ven- 
tured inside a public library. So Joe had to de- 
pend on the dog’s-eared, tattered paper volumes 
that the other boys lent him. To Joe, all the books 
in the world fell into two classes : the stupid kind 
he waded through at school, which grown-ups 
thought you ought to read ; and the thrilling kind 
he devoured out of sight in the corner at home. 
He had never even bothered to wonder why the 
stupid kind were praised and studied, and the in- 
teresting ones frowned at and forbidden. It was 
all a part of the big puzzle that grown-ups made 
of the world. 

Roy and Mrs. Manners were both delighted to 
find that Joe read so well. Now Joe was thankful 
for the long hours he had spent at Sis’s bedside, 
reading to her. This task had somehow fallen 
upon him: Dick and Jack never would do it; but 
Joe had felt his responsibility as he grew older, 
and had responded loyally. He had never been 


114 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


sorry he did it, though it would sometimes mean 
missing some fun with ^‘the fellers.” Now it was 
‘‘coming back to him” in increased skill just when 
and where he would have chosen to have it. The 
world wasn’t always so unfair, thought Joe, 
cheerfully. 

Since Roy liked real thrillers of stories, and 
since his mother let him read them, Joe thought 
he would take him up his own favorite to read to 
him; though he didn’t know as even that gorgeous 
tale was quite as good as Roy’s story. Roy cer- 
tainly had the luck in finding it, that time! Of 
course, Mrs. Manners’ choosing it was just an 
accident. She couldn’t possibly have known it 
was such a dandy book for boys. If she had, she 
probably wouldn’t have bought it. For Joe was 
used to having all the tales he most enjoyed 
frowned upon and labeled “trash.” 

So Joe took up his pet yellow-back. Dauntless 
Dermit, the Boy Lieutenant, and they began read- 
ing it. But presently Roy began to fidget, and, 
in the middle of the most exciting part, Joe caught 
him yawning surreptitiously. 

“Shall I go on?” asked Joe, tactfully, at the 
end of that chapter. 

“No-o; not to-day, I guess,” answered Roy. 
“Honest, Joe, donH you think it’s rather steep to 
have a boy of our age as one of the instructors at 
Annapolis?” 

“Why, — I dunno,” answered Joe, in surprise. 


THRILLERS 


115 


How sharp Roy was! He wouldn’t have thought 
of that, if he’d read the hook a hundred times! 
And here Roy nailed it at the very first time! 
Nor he would hardly have dared criticise, in that 
fashion, what any one had written in a real printed 
book! Of course anything in print had to be so. 

‘‘You go to Annapolis after the High School. 
Can you imagine a boy of our age teaching in our 
school ? And that ’s lower grade than Annapolis. ’ ’ 

J oe looked at Roy in wonderment. How he did 
think things out! 

“And isn’t it still steeper,” went on Roy, “to 
have him the commander of a United States sub- 
marine? Just think of the men’s lives depending 
on his judgment. Just think of the mere money 
value of a submarine. Why I was reading the 
other day that one costs about eight hundred thou- 
sand dollars. And, then, just think of all he’d 
have to know. How could he even learn it all in 
ten years, supposing he started school at six! 
There’s algebra, and geometry, and trigonometry, 
geography, navigation, nautical astronomy — ” 

“Ye-es; maybe you’re right,” admitted Joe. 

“And then, can you imagine a boy of sixteen 
licking eight full-grown mutineers, single- 
handed?” 

“If he was extra smart,” protested Joe, with a 
feeling that he must defend his pet hero, on a point 
where he, and not Roy, certainly had most 
authority. 


116 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Suppose there had been eight Foleys instead 
of one for you to lick! And Foley was a boy, and 
they were men.’^ 

“But Vm not extra smart. I’m not commander 
of a submarine, remember!” retorted Joe. 

Roy smiled. “You still believe he could do it !” 
he declared; then he thought intently for a mo- 
ment. Both boys enjoyed these impromptu dis- 
cussions they often had, about everything under 
the sun. For neither ever lost his temper; Roy’s 
mind was very keen; and Joe, though slower, was 
also slower to be convinced. 

“Did you ever — er — have a difference with your 
father!” asked Roy, laughing. 

“Sure,” grinned Joe. 

“Can you fancy yourself — or even Dauntless 
Dermit — licking him, supposing he was a mutineer 
— let alone seven more with him!” 

“No-o, not quite!” confessed Joe, honestly. 
“But I’d have a pistol if I was an officer. That 
would quell ’em!” 

“Dauntless Dermit didn’t.” 

“No, so he didn’t.” 

“And the eight mutineers did!*^ 

“Ye-es.” 

“And, remember, it meant death to the muti- 
neers if they didn^t win, and death to Dauntless 
Dermit if he didn’t.” 

“Well, that was one way that odds were even,” 


THEILLERS 117 

laughed Joe, giving in gracefully. And the dis- 
cussion ended in a hearty laugh. 

Some days later Joe dipped into The Boy 
Lieutenant again; and caught himself yawning 
just like Roy at Dauntless Dermit^s wonderful 
achievements. He was surprised, then pleased. 
On the whole, he felt rather proud of himself for 
that yawn. All the time he was reading, he dis- 
covered impossibilities — impossibilities of situ- 
ation, of action, even of language! Joe flung 
Dauntless Dermit, The Boy Lieutenant into a 
far corner, with disgust. He was sick of his very 
name. 

‘^Wish there were more books like those of 
yours, he said to Roy, the next time they read 
together. There were only a few pages left, now, 
before Treasure Island came to an end. 

‘‘There are — three hundred of ’em,’^ answered 
Roy, promptly. “If youfll look in that top desk 
drawer, youfll see the list. It’s from Boy Scout 
Headquarters, and every book is a peach! I’m 
going to read right straight through that list — with 
your help, of course.” 

“But where will you get ’em all!” asked Joe. 
Three hundred books — like Treasure Island! 

“Own some — public library — school library.” 

“Roy Manners! You’re never chump enough 
to believe the school library has story-books in it ! ” 
exclaimed Joe. 


118 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


shouldn’t be at all surprised. I’ll prove it 
to you to-morrow at school.” 

Prove it if you can,” challenged Joe. 

Needless to say, he did. Joe was astounded at 
the rows and rows of stories — ^yes, sir, stories! 
Roy could scarcely get him to move on. And the 
friendliness of the librarian was another surpris- 
ing thing. To Joe, a librarian was a person whose 
business it was to keep people from using the 
books in a library by scaring them out of it. She 
fairly hovered about in their vicinity; it was on 
Roy’s account, thought Joe. As if he couldn’t 
help him all he needed ! 

‘^Have you got any books — such as a girl that’s 
a cripple could read*?” Joe asked the librarian, 
as she approached and asked for a second time if 
she could help him in any way. She appeared so 
anxious to be doing something useful, that Joe 
magnanimously asked her a question. Of course 
he didn’t know, but Miss Scott had been talking 
to her recently about him; and Joe Darby was one 
of the ‘^big game” that the little librarian hoped 
to lure into the library, by and by. Miss Scott had 
even plotted with her, to send him in here on an 
errand. 

‘‘Have you a sister like thatT’ she asked with 
great interest. “How old is she?” Then she 
took pains to bring Joe three or four books, gave 
him a list of some others, and asked him which he 
would take to-day. So Joe took one; and maybe 


THRILLERS 


119 


Sis didn't receive it with all sorts of raptures. 
J oe read it to her after her eyes tired, and was sur- 
prised that even a girls ' book should be somewhat 
interesting. If the librarian's girW books could 
interest Joe, what would her boys' books be like? 
It didn't take Joe many days to find out! 

But the best was still in the unguessed future. 

‘‘What's the best book for boys that ever was 
written?" demanded Roy one day, with a mys- 
terious smile. 

“Give it up," answered Joe. “Know you're 
dying to tell me." 

“This!" 

Roy slapped down on the table a well-worn 
paper-covered volume, with a picture on it of a 
boy waving a flag in each hand. 

Joe picked it up with curiosity. *‘Boy Scouts 
of America, Handbook for Boys/^ he read. 

If he hadn't known Roy was a Scout, he wouldn't 
have touched it. Joe Darby hadn't any use for 
Scouts. Once, when they were just starting a 
troop among the 2A boys in school, and he had seen 
their uniforms, Joe had hung about their meeting- 
place, hopefully. But nobody invited him to join 
— Mm, big Joe Darby, the leader of his gang! If 
they didn't want Mm, they couldn't be much. 
And he had been loud in his scorn of them ever 
since. 

Of course Joe had no way of knowing the inside 
history of that Scout troop : how the Scoutmaster 


120 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


had actually had Joe’s name on his original list of 
prospective Scouts ; how the mere numbers of that 
list had made him tear his hair at the impossibil- 
ity of taking in all the boys that he wanted in; 
how he had, most reluctantly, been compelled to 
limit his troop to boys in his own grade and in his 
own classes ; and how he was, even now, trying to 
persuade one of the other teachers to start a troop 
with the boys left out — among them, Joe! 

More to please Roy than anything else — ^though 
he did have a curiosity that he wouldn’t acknowl- 
edge even to himself — Joe turned the pages at 
random. He saw a page-full of pictures of wild 
animals — he didn’t know the names of all of them. 
He saw two or three pages of illustrations of 
knots — he couldn’t have tied one ! Then he found 
an article — an understandable article — on wireless 
telegraphy and one on games — why, that book was 
chock-full of the very things a boy wanted to read 1 

‘‘I’m going to loan it to you,” went on Roy. 
“Know it myself by heart, just about. I had it 
out reviewin’ — our Troop is getting ready for its 
annual exhibition at the Lighthouse. Say — I want 
you to put down the date, and remember you’re 
cornin’. Give you your ticket just as soon as we 
get ’em ourselves. But don’t forget to ask me 
for the Handbook, after the show’s over. I need 
it myself till then, or I’d let you take it to-day.” 


CHAPTER XI 


AN EXHIBITION 

I N due time Roy^s tickets came, and Joe’s was 
delivered to Mm. There came a printed an- 
nouncement with it, giving a hint of the pro- 
gram that was coming. Joe nearly wore both out, 
carrying them about in his pocket and looking at 
them so frequently. 

He had always wondered why in the world a 
place for the blind should be called The Light- 
house, It seemed to him a peculiarly inappro- 
priate name. Now an eloquent little seal in the 
center told him. It bore a picture of a lighthouse 
shining amid storm-darkened sea and rocks; and 
round it went the inscription, 

LIGHT THROUGH WORK.” 

All of a sudden Joe understood. Once he had 
wondered why Roy wanted to go to an ordinary 
public school, and learn all the things that every- 
body learned; in fact, why should he want to go 
at all? Now Joe pictured what life would be like 
to Roy without something to do. ‘ ‘ Light Through 
Work!” How well that expressed it! And, 
121 


122 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


thought Joe, maybe other folks got ‘‘Light through 
work,’’ too, only it was just a different kind of 
light. 

Joe confessed to a thrill that Saturday morning 
that the most exciting movie had hitherto failed 
to elicit from him. The announcement had prom- 
ised a play, which he had stringent orders from Sis 
to report in strict detail ; but what interested J oe 
was the promised ‘ ‘ Exhibition of scoutcraf t — knot- 
tying, and gymnastics — ground-tumbling and pyr- 
amid-building. ” 

Joe presented himself early at the quiet-looking 
building on 59th Street, and lingered a moment to 
look at the large show-window filled with articles 
made by the blind. Going inside the door, he 
found himself in a hallway already thronged. In 
one corner was a group of Scouts in uniform, 
gathered around their Scoutmaster. He didn’t 
see Roy there ; but these were younger boys than 
Roy, and Joe remembered that Roy was in the 
athletic stunts, and was probably getting on his 
gym suit. Joe went into the auditorium, where 
he found a big green curtain to watch, as it wiggled 
tantalizingly with people behind it getting ready. 

The entertainment began with music— piano 
pieces and songs by blind students. Joe opened 
his eyes. How well they played ! There was one 
“cunning little fatty” — so Joe named her! — ^who 
was led to the piano and lifted onto the stool, whom 
Joe resolved to remember to tell Sis about: she 


AN EXHIBITION 


123 


played her simple little piece so earnestly — she 
stopped and started over again from the beginning 
conscientiously, every time she made a mistake 
— and took the applause of the audience with such 
glee. 

The play followed the music. Joe leaned back 
to be bored. The curtain went up on a toy-shop, 
with life-sized dolls of all descriptions scattered 
about, and an old toy-maker carefully sewing up 
one who was losing her sawdust. Presently the 
toy-maker fell asleep ; then a fairy came — a light- 
footed, dainty little girl that one couldn’t conceive 
of as not seeing — and the toys came alive, and 
talked. Joe would have scorned it as a silly 
girls ’ play, ’ ’ except that he was seeing it through 
Sis’s eyes, knowing that she would demand a de- 
scription of how every single doll looked and 
acted. 

Then the curtain fell. The next stunt was the 
Scouts. 

In they marched, with a steady tramp. You 
couldn’t tell they were blind, except that each lad 
rested his hands lightly on the preceding boy’s 
hips. They mounted the steps with secure tread, 
and lined up across the platform. A supply of 
rope was passed down the line, as quickly as 
sighted boys could have done it. 

‘‘Square knot — tie! Quick!” commanded the 
Scoutmaster, who stood facing them down in front 
of the platform. Joe was surprised at their dex- 


124 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


terity, as one after another made the knot and 
held it out for inspection. 

‘ ‘ Untie. Square knot — behind your hack. Tie ! 
Quick!’’ This took longer, and a few boys 
squirmed in their eagerness, as Joe knew he would 
have done. He resolved to try that stunt himself 
— after Roy had shown him that knot. But one by 
one the knots were finished, and again held up. 

In the same manner they went down a list of 
more knots than Joe knew existed. What in the 
world, for example, was a ‘‘sheepshank,” a “clove- 
hitch,” or a “bowline”? Yet Joe counted nine 
different kinds of knots that they tied. When 
they needed something to tie around — to represent 
the “timber” in the “timber-hitch,” each took the 
arm of the boy to his right. 

Then the smaller Scouts marched out. The cur- 
tain was pulled together again, and presently went 
up on a scene that looked like a gymnasium. 
There were pairs of dumb-bells ranged along the 
rear of the stage ; the floor was covered with mats ; 
and a horse and parallel bars stood at one side to 
be at hand when needed. 

In came the larger Scouts, in gymnasium suits. 
Well set-up and muscular they looked; in this re- 
spect they would have compared favorably with 
any group of lads of their age. 

A dumb-bell drill aroused Joe’s anticipation as 
to what was to follow. Quickly, steadily, rhyth- 
mically, the dumb-bells flashed back and forth. 


AN EXHIBITION 


125 


up and down, or crashed together with well-sent 
force. ^^They beat our gym class in school,^’ 
thought Joe, ‘‘and Eoy’s the best one here, 
too!’^ 

The stunts they did with the horse and parallel 
bars made Joe’s eyes open wide. One after an- 
other they leaped the horse — forwards, sidewise, 
then once round again, to turn a somersault over 
it. Now came the parallel bars — not only all the 
things they did in school, but many more, and 
harder ones. You had to make yourself remember 
that these agile gymnasts were doing it without 
seeing ! 

Now the apparatus was moved back, and the 
floor left clear of all but the mats. Once more the 
Scouts lined up at one side, their faces aglow with 
enjoyment. Then one at a time, they turned a 
somersault — first a forward, then a backward, then 
a forward followed by a backward. They ended 
this part of the program with a “giant-roll.” 

“What next?” thought Joe, now speechless with 
admiration. 

They had saved the best for the climax — pyra- 
mid building. Joe never took his eyes off as, in 
succession, eight of them formed a “grand pyra- 
mid”; then ten united in a “shoulder pyramid”; 
then a hip pyramid — a fellow’s hips made pretty 
slippery standing-ground, thought Joe; yet they 
stood, three at the base, then two, then the smallest 
lad atop of that ! As if that were not high enough. 


126 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


the next pyramid was four deep — four at the base, 
then three, then two, then one. They held it — 
then presto, everybody let go at once, and they 
fell into a flat heap, with ten glowing faces lifted 
up turtle-like, and grinning at the audience. 

That was the end. There was appreciative ap- 
plause, in which Joe was as loud as any one else 
there. Performers and audience mingled in one 
gayly chattering mass. 

‘Ht was great!’’ said Joe to Roy, as they soon 
found each other. 

‘‘You wait here till I get dressed, and I’ll take 
you all over the place,” promised Roy. “You’ve 
never been here before, have you ! ’ ’ 

So Joe and Roy were soon strolling about on a 
tour of inspection. They went up the elevator 
into the salesroom, where Joe marveled at the 
braided and woven mats, the pottery, and the bas- 
kets, all made by fingers that had no help of eyes. 
There were brooms, too, and carpet-beaters ; 
cookies and cakes; and some beautifully joined 
footstools and tables, made by a blind cabinet- 
maker. It took all Joe’s experience with Roy and 
his credulity, combined, to believe that these last 
could be made without sight. He knew he couldn’t 
have done it, even with the use of his eyes. They 
visited the workshop, the bowling-alleys, the offices 
with their blind stenographers ticking away at 
their machines ; the library, with its bulky volumes 
in Braille and other raised type; and last the 


AN EXHIBITION 


127 


^ ‘ Squirrel-Cage ’ ’ — a smooth-floored roof -garden, 
where Eoy told enthusiastically of many good 
times roller-skating. 

When Joe went home, he took with hiTu a copy 
of the Lighthouse Log, in which Sis could read 
all about these things which he had seen. 

Sis kept the Lighthouse Log within reach for 
all the next month. Joe had looked it over, and 
found it interesting ; but he couldn’t see what there 
was about it that made Sis never let it out of her 
sight. 

‘‘Don’t you put that out of my reach,” warned 
Sis one day, as Joe, coming home from school, 
shoved the books and papers from the chair by 
her bedside so he could sit down. 

“What in the world do you And in that that’s 
so interesting? I should think something more 
cheerful — or a story — ” 

Sis took Joe’s big hand and nestled down with 
her cheek on it. 

“Joe, I keep it there to remind me — ” 

“What of?” asked Joe softly, as she paused. 

“Sometimes, when I feel — oh, tired and cross, 
as I do sometimes, you know,” (Joe knew Sis 
meant when the pain was worse than usual, and she 
was weary of lying in bed, a helpless cripple), “I 
just look at it, and it reminds me — that I’m better 
oif than lots of folks. Why, I can see ma, and 
dad, and you, and all the rest. I can read, all I 
want to, and sew, and — ^look at roses,” she put in 


128 BOY SCOUTS OP LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


slyly. tried it once, yon know — not the roses, 
but the — other.’’ 

Tried what?” 

‘‘Shutting my eyes, and keeping them shut. 
And then I thought, what if I had to always be like 
that. Oh, Joe, I ’m so glad you brought it ! ” 

‘ ‘ Poor little Sis ! ’ ’ whispered J oe. He was glad 
it was twilight, and she couldn’t see him. 

“No! Not poor little Sis,” she corrected, 
firmly. 

It was Joe that broke the silence that fell upon 
them for a moment after. 

“I brought you some more funny answers to- 
day,” said Joe. “We had a test in Biology last 
Friday, and to-day we got back our papers. Miss 
Summit always reads us the silliest answers, and I 
wrote ’em down for you.” 

“Did you pass?” inquired Sis. 

‘ ‘ Sure. Seventy. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Good ! But you make it eighty next time. Go 
ahead. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Here ’s one : ” Joe produced a paper from his 
pocket. “ ‘Saliva you need in the stomach, and if 
enough isn’t there you get a pain,’ ” read Joe. 

Sis giggled. “I guess that boy had had experi- 
ence,” she commented. 

“ ‘The object of digestion,’ ” continued Joe, 
“ ‘is so that more things can be eaten. If we did 
not digest our food, there would soon be no room 
for more.’ ” 


AN EXHIBITION 


129 


^^That boy — began Sis, with the merry eyes 
that Joe loved to see twinkling at him. But Joe 
caught her up. 

‘‘How do you know it^s a boyT’ he demanded. 

‘ ‘ Because ! ^ ’ she retorted. ‘ ‘ N o w, wasn ’t it T ’ 

“Maybe. Here’s one, by a girl!^^ he said with 
emphasis. “ ‘Insects have a relation to agricul- 
ture. When an insect eats something on some ag- 
ricultural crop it eats it and in that way protects 
the agriculture. They also eat some of the things 
that is planted and this way destroys the plants.’ 
If you can tell who eats what, you’re smart, that’s 
all. And here’s another girl: 

“ ‘The human body is studied in a zoology 
course because there are still some uncivilized peo- 
ple who act like animals. ’ ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ She ’s perfectly right ! ’ ’ defended Sis promptly. 
“I think the boys’ answers are much sillier than 
the girls’.” 

“That’s what Miss Summit said,” confessed 
Joe. “Here’s the last one. You’ve got to guess 
who wrote it, a boy or a girl.” 

“If it’s awful silly ’twas a boy,” retorted Sis. 

“ ‘Values of health: We can eat without tak- 
ing medicines ; no nasty medicines to be taken or 
paid for when healthy; if you have good health 
you can eat well.’ ” 

“Boy!” cried Sis, laughing. 

“ No, sir ; girl I ” Joe himself laughed at having 
caught her; and Sis giggled hilariously at having 


130 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


been cangbt. They were making so much noise 
that they didn’t hear some one enter. 

^‘Hey, Joe,” came Mr. Darby’s voice from the 
doorway, as he surveyed them. Caught you 
teasin’ Sis again, have I?” 

J oe laughed shamefacedly — ^blushed — and sidled 
away. He hated to have any one catch him when 
he was with Sis. But this time he was glad, be- 
cause he knew now that a certain point was settled 
in his father’s mind — about teasing Sis. 


CHAPTEE XII 


THE BEST BOOK OF ALL 


PTER that exhibition, wild horses conldn^t 



have kept Joe away from the Handbook 


— that book that told you all about Scouts 


and how to become one. Nor could any shyness 
have kept him from reminding Roy about it, when 
Roy happened to forget to give it to Joe, as he had 
agreed. 

‘‘Sorry I forgot. Glad you had sense enough 
to remind me. Keep it as long as you like. So 
you’re really interested in Scouts?” 

“You bet,” answered Joe, slipping it into his 
pocket. Then he forgot about it in the business 
of the next three hours. 

When he opened the door of the Darby flat, the 
first thing that greeted him was a bedlam of noise. 
Both the baby and five-year-old J ohnny were yell- 
ing at the top of their lungs; the two little girls 
were quarreling in sharp, shrill voices; and Mrs. 
Darby was scolding everybody in general as she 
tried to mop up the baby’s broken bottle of milk 
with one hand, and to rescue a frying-pan of burn- 
ing onions with the other. 

Joe scowled. He couldn’t help contrasting the 
noisy, crowded, onion-scented room with the quiet. 


131 


132 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


orderly ones he had just come from. Just then he 
felt that he hated to come back to its noise and con- 
fusion, after his afternoons with Roy. 

‘‘Stop yer yellin’, Johnny,” he growled at the 
small boy who stood directly in his way. Joe 
shoved him roughly aside, and slapped his hands 
for crying — with the immediate result of making 
him roar twice as loud as before. Joe’s deep 
frown deepened. 

“What you two always jawin’ about?” he 
growled to the girls. Then he pushed past them, 
pulling a braid of one and pinching the neck of 
the other. 

As he stamped into the next room, he heard his 
mother’s querulous voice: 

“Joe, will you run round to the store and get a 
can of peaches and a pint o’ milk f’r th’ baby?” 
But Joe pretended not to have heard, and went on. 

He had hoped for a quiet talk with Sis, to make 
him feel better. He felt cross and out of sorts. 
The world was against him. Why couldn’t he 
have had the money and the home Roy had! 
’Twasn’t fair! Dick was right in his grumbling. 
But he’d talk it over with Sis — then he suddenly 
realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her all his 
thoughts and feelings; and she’d worry if he did. 
A great chap he was, to worry a girl — a sick girl 
— with his fool troubles ! 

Sis was asleep ; so he threw himself into a chair 
by the window. As he did so, the book in his 


THE BEST BOOK OF ALL 


133 


pocket made its presence known by bumping 
against the chair. He pulled it out. He’d have a 
few minutes before dinner ; he could at least find 
the page where it told what you had to do to be a 
Scout. 

He found it. The book seemed to open natu- 
rally to a page where Joe saw, standing out in 
heavy type, the titles : 

The Scout Oath. 

The Scout Salute. 

The Scout Handshake. 

He read the short paragraphs hastily; tried 
doing the Sign and the Salute. Then at the bot- 
tom of the page came 

The Scout Law. 

After he turned the leaf, he began to read more 
slowly. In a new paragraph he read : 

‘‘The following laws relate to the Boy Scouts 
of America. These laws a boy promises to obey 
when he takes his Scout oath : 

“1. A Scout is trustworthy. . . He read, 
and fidgeted uneasily. He thought of that mo- 
ment when the diamonds winked at him from the 
wash-bowl. “I didn’t ! No, I didn’t !” he thought 
uncomfortably. ‘H could live up to that. I only 
fib when I want to. What’s the nextT’ 

“2. A Scout is loyal. ... He is loyal to . . . 
his home, his parents ! What had he been think- 


134 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


ing not two minutes ago — that he hated his home ! 
And his parents that fed and clothed and sheltered 
him ! He had been comparing that home with an- 
other, and envying the other boy. 

^‘3. A Scout is — helpful!’’ Yes, he’d surely 
been helpful when he pretended not to hear his 
mother when she asked him to help her — ^when she 
was so busy ! And he’d been courteous, too ! 

‘^6. A Scout is kind,” were the words that 
mocked at him on the next line. Yes ; it was surely 
kind to slap your baby brother and tease your 
younger sisters ! 

‘‘7. A Scout is obedient” — ^yes, he’d been obedi- 
ent to his mother, hadn’t he? 

‘‘8. A Scout is cheerful” — no, he didn’t feel 
particularly cheerful just then. Nor was it a 
cheerful face that glowered back at him from the 
parlor mirror. He read that paragraph twice be- 
cause it hit him so hard. ‘‘ ‘He smiles whenever 
he can. His obedience to orders is prompt and 
cheery. He never shirks nor grumbles at hard- 
ships.’ ” 

Well, there were only four more. They couldn’t 
hit him any harder than these had. Even now, 
Joe felt as though Foley had been battering him 
all over. But Foley had never made him feel like 
that, inside ! 

“9. A Scout is thrifty,” made him feel better. 
Maybe there was a ray of hope. He read on. 
“He works faithfully . . . saves his money so 


THE BEST BOOK OF ALL 


135 


that he may be generous to those in need — Sis ! 
Why, here was one law he was keeping! 

‘HO. A Scout is brave.” Why — he thought he 
was brave. Hadn't he faced Foley? He had 
faced Foley “in spite of fear”; he had stood up 
for Koy “against the coaxings of friends and the 
jeers of enemies.” “Defeat does not down 
him — ” Well, he'd been pretty well downed by 
the first eight laws. But, jiminy, he wouldnH be 
downed. He'd keep those laws — or bust! That 
is, of course, if he really started in on them. He 
wasn't sure yet, that he would. It looked like a 
lot of trouble, when you could succeed in breaking 
eight of them in the space of just two minutes! 
The last two laws also made him feel better; he 
knew he had kept them fairly well. 

Joe resolved on an experiment. He'd try, and 
see if those old laws would get the better of him ! 
How should he begin? Not by sitting there, loaf- 
ing, when he was needed in the kitchen. He rose 
with a frown — saw himself in the mirror. “Oh, 
land! A Scout is cheerful!” he muttered under 
his breath. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, 
as he entered the kitchen. 

Joe had to blush at the look of astonishment and 
incredulity that his mother gave him. 

“I asked you to go to the store, but Lizzie's 
gone now,” she said, in a tired, dragged-out voice 
that made Joe uncomfortable. 


136 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Did youU’ asked Joe, in surprised accents. 
(Bang! Trustworthy knocked to smithereens! 
thought Joe.) 

“If you really want to do something to help you 
could take the baby up, and see if that’ll quiet 
him. But I don’t suppose you ’ll want to do that, ’ ’ 
she added, hopelessly. 

“Old Cheer fuVs got it this time,” thought Joe. 
Of all things, holding the baby was a task that he 
detested most. Dick would come in in a moment, 
and call him “nurse-girl,” and “Josephine”; and 
his father would laugh at him, too. Well? What 
if they did? 

“I’ll bust your nose, old Cheerful, before you’ll 
down me,” he promised. So he took up the red- 
faced, wrinkled Sammy with a cheerful counte- 
nance. 

Joe unconsciously handled the baby with a 
gentle, easy touch he had learned in being with 
Roy. The baby stopped crying out of sheer sur- 
prise. Joe then made some of his famous faces, 
and soon Johnny was laughing almost as loudly 
as he had been crying. 

The look of relief his mother gave him made 
Joe feel good. He was being helpful — yes, and 
loyal and kind and obedient and cheerful, all at 
once ! Why, it was as easy, once you got the knack 
of it, to keep the Scout Laws as it was to break 
them! 


THE BEST BOOK OF ALL 


137 


Dick’s step sounded outside. The door was 
flung open — then Dick stood stock-still with amaze- 
ment. ‘‘Hello, Josie,” he jeered. 

Mr. Darby was just behind him. “Got a new 
nurse-girl, old woman?” he added genially. But 
Joe only smiled, cheerily. As long as it wasn’t a 
jeer like Dick’s, he didn’t mind. 

“You don’t feel sick, do ye, Joe?” went on Mr. 
Darby, jokingly. But Joe knew this was his 
father’s way of commending him for it. 

It was on the tip of Joe’s tongue to explain 
about Scouts then and there. But with Dick pres- 
ent, and his father in a jovial mood, Joe thought 
better of it. He’d try it a little longer. Maybe 
— maybe he wouldnH be able to keep them enough 
to be a Scout, anyway. No; it was wiser to try, 
just a little, first. He’d broken several in the ten 
minutes since he had resolved to keep them; but 
he ’d be hanged if he ’d break any more ! 

“Where’s my old pipe?” asked Mr. Darby. 

“Oh, hang!” thought Joe. “I’m beginning 
to-day on the Laws, and ’tain’t fair to go back with 
something I did last week.” 

Mr. Darby fumbled on the shelf where he always 
kept it. “Some one’s busted it,” he discovered, 
holding up the two pieces which had once been one. 
“Who, now? You, Liz? Or Marne?” 

The little girls huddled together and protested 
in concert’ like scared birds. 


138 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


‘‘You, Joe? You ^11 all deny it, I suppose!^’ 

Joe sighed. How hard it was to keep the Scout 
Laws! 

“7 broke it — couple days ago — didn’t mean 
to~” 

Mr. Darby stared at the boy. A new note in 
Joe’s voice puzzled him. Where was the old 
angry, vehement denial he was used to — even when 
he knew Joe had done it? Never before had he 
known Joe to own up, voluntarily, to doing any- 
thing. And here he was, not only acknowledging 
it, when he could have lied, but doing so in a quiet, 
respectful tone. 

“Well, it’s all right. That there stem always 
was a-gittin’ choked up.” 

Mr. Darby’s tones were different, too — more as 
if he and Joe were companions. Wasn’t it easify 
after all, to keep the Scout Laws ! thought Joe, all 
aglow inside his heart. 

But it wasn’t always easy, Joe found in the next 
few days. It wasn’t even easy to remember, all 
the time, that there were such things as the Scout 
Laws, and that he had promised himself to keep 
them. It meant being helpful at home — and it 
was queer how many things there were that he 
could do when he looked for them. It meant being 
loyal — not contrasting that home with Roy’s, or 
envying him his luxuries. It meant being kind 
and friendly to Lizzie and Mary; hitherto he had 
either let them alone, or else plagued them, so they 


THE BEST BOOK OF ALL 139 

wouldn’t bother him. He was surprised to find 
how interesting his sisters were when he got ac- 
quainted. It meant even holding the baby, almost 
every day, in the interval between Joe’s arrival 
home, and dinner. He was too big and heavy, 
thought Joe, for the little girls to lift. It meant 
— oh, it seemed to mean a billion things that Joe 
had never given a thought to before, nor wanted 
to give a thought to. 

It was all the more provoking, because Joe had 
been feeling rather proud of himself lately. 
Hadn’t he turned over a new leaf in school, be- 
haved himself, studied hard, earned money, and 
given that money to Sis? Hadn’t he cut his old 
rough companions, giving up going out with them 
nights? Why, he hadn’t been to the movies since 
he started in with Roy, except on Saturdays ; and 
he used to go almost every day. He could scarcely 
tell where the days had gone; they passed so 
quickly, with every minute taken. School — Roy 
in the afternoon — study at night — that was his 
daily round. Even Saturdays, he had devoted 
partly to reading to Sis, and partly to making up 
the back work that he continually felt the need of ; 
and now — he found so many things to do to help 
Saturdays ! 

But when Joe got most discouraged, he would 
turn to other parts of the Handbook— the exciting, 
entrancing parts, that told of such things as camp- 
craft, woodcraft, life-saving, tracking, trailing. 


140 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


and signaling. Somewhere else in the Handbook, 
too, he found the statement that there were 200,000 
boys in the country who were Scouts. They were 
living up to the Scout Laws ! 

‘‘I’m not a-goin’ to be stumped, where two hun- 
dred thousand chaps have won out. It’ll take 
more than one page of printing to stump me ! ” he 
muttered to himself. And when Joe Darby looked 
as he looked when he said that, there was some- 
thing going to smash before he gave in. 


CHAPTER XIII 


DICK AGAIN 

D ick had let Joe severely alone for some 
time — so long that Joe secretly won- 
dered why. Was he, perhaps, mindful 
of Pete Foley’s defeat, and afraid of Joe’s re- 
venge, because he — Dick — had got Joe into trouble 
over that ‘^teasing of Sis.” The thought was a 
very pleasant one to J oe — to keep his big brother 
toeing the mark because he was afraid not to ! 

Joe was apparently confirmed in this theory by 
Dick’s again trying hard to make friends. Two 
or three times he asked J oe to go with him to his 
club of big fellows — an honor which Joe appreci- 
ated and wanted to accept, but couldn’t; for every 
hour of Joe’s day was full. Then he asked Joe 
to the movies whenever he went; but Joe again 
had to decline. 

Joe sometimes wondered whether Dick had any 
thought of getting his work with Roy away from 
him. Or perhaps he wanted to get Joe in disgrace 
there, so he would lose his place. Perhaps his 
father and Joe had both been mistaken about those 
diamonds. For all of a sudden Dick began to like 
to talk about Roy — or rather, to get Joe to talk 

141 


142 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


about him. Several times he tried to arrange to 
meet Joe on his way from the Manners house. 
But always his eagerness betrayed there was hid- 
den reason for all this. 

‘‘Can’t you go to the movies to-morrow after- 
noon?” Dick would ask. “They’re playing 
Treasure Island, I’ll meet you on your way 
home. Let’s see — where did you say Roy lives?” 

But something strained in his voice made Joe 
look up from the book he was studying. Dick was 
trying to look unconcerned and not succeeding. 
His eyes glittered too eagerly, as he leaned for- 
ward to hear Joe’s answer. 

“I didn’t say,” answered Joe, impatiently. 
“No, I can’t go. Got to study.” His father’s 
words came back to him: “Don’t tell Dick where 
that there feller lives. Don’t let him worm it out 
o’ ye, or trick it out o’ ye, or scare it out o’ ye.” 
Joe knew only too well what his father had had 
in mind when he issued that command, though 
neither would speak of it. Seeing Dick’s eyes 
glitter now, made Joe think of it, and showed him 
they might be right. 

“Why are you so scared of tollin’ where he 
lives ? ’ ’ persisted Dick, wheedlingly. ‘ ‘ ’Fraid I ’ll 
get your job away from you?” 

“Why are you so crazy about knowing?” asked 
Joe. “Huh! Don’t I know you wouldn’t work 
if you had the chance?” 

“I ain’t,” lied Dick. “What is it to me? 


DICK AGAIN 143 

Only, you act so funny about it. Easy enough to 
look in the directory, or the ^phone book. ’ ^ 

Now Joe congratulated himself. Dick’s remark 
showed he had been thinking about it, and prob- 
ably looking. But Joe had looked ahead of Dick, 
and knew Mrs. Manners did not have a telephone, 
and also that, since they had moved into that house 
only recently, her address in the directory was 
not the correct one. Of course Dick anight go to 
the old address, and ask there; and possibly find 
out. But Joe hardly thought he would. If he 
wanted the address for what Joe assumed, Dick 
wouldn ’t want a clew like that to exist. 

‘‘Needn’t be so close-mouthed,” repeated Dick, 
drumming on the table with his fingers. “What 
kind of a dog was it you said Roy had?” he asked 
after a pause, during which J oe bent over his books 
and showed no sign of continuing the conversation. 

“That’s all you know about it. They haven’t 
any d — ” Joe was checked by the significance of 
what he had said, if Dick intended — ! “That is, 
I ’ve never noticed one. They probably have a big 
savage one that they don’t let see any one. Most 
of the folks round there do.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, do they ? ’ ’ sneered Dick. ‘ ‘ Rich neighbor- 
hood, is it?” he inquired, with a look which said 
to Joe, “I understand that bluff!” 

It was several days later before Dick and Joe 
were again alone; for Joe avoided this state of 
affairs whenever he could. 


144 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Joe was sitting beside Sis^s bed in the twilight. 
She had had a hard day, full of pain; and after 
Joe’s quiet talk had dropped to sleep. There 
were only a few minutes before dinner — not 
enough to use for study — so Joe stayed where he 
was for fear of disturbing her. 

There sounded a whistle from the street. Joe 
didn’t know Dick had come in; but a moment later 
he came tiptoeing through — never noticing Joe — 
and leaned out of the window. 

‘‘Found out yet?” Joe heard some one ask. 

“No; but I’m goin’ to — to-night. The old 
man’s goin’ to take the old woman to the movies, 
and if you’ll come — we^ll find out!’^ and Dick 
laughed the cruel, sneering laugh that always 
grated on Joe’s ears. 

Joe’s first thought was always of Roy. Of 
course there was that one thing — Roy’s address 
— that Dick wanted to find out; but equally of 
course there were other things Dick’s mind was 
concerned about. And what could “the old 
man’s” going to the movies have to do with learn- 
ing Roy’s address? Joe told himself he was get- 
ting daHy over that subject. 

After dinner he rather expected, from Dick’s 
words, that he would go out. Joe fervently hoped 
he would; but he didn’t. The little girls fluttered 
about, getting ready; Mrs. Darby put Johnny and 
the baby to bed, and got ready herself; and the 


DICK AGAIN 145 

party was ready to start. Mr. Darby stopped in 
the doorway. 

‘‘Goin’ out, DickT’ he asked. 

“Naw,’’ responded Dick. 

‘'If you two boys fight— 7 teach ye/' threat- 
ened their father. “Mind, now.’’ 

“Sis is asleep and so are the bahies,” added 
Mrs. Darby, in her timorous voice, pleadingly. 
“If you’re not noisy they won’t wake up.” 

Mr. Darby slammed the door. He understood 
her timid warning, with its plea, quite as well as 
Joe and Dick. 

Joe would have chosen to study in some other 
room than with Dick. But the light in the parlor 
was too high up to study by, even if it wouldn’t 
have wakened Sis by shining in her eyes. So, with 
a sigh, Joe spread out his books on the kitchen 
table. Dick .was already settled, doing nothing, 
with feet up, and cigarette in his mouth. His old 
evil smile broke over his face now and then. 

Joe resolved he wouldn’t be either cajoled or 
bluffed into a fight. You never needed to fight 
unless you wanted to; especially as Dick knew it 
wasn’t because he was afraid. 

It seemed as though he had studied only a few 
minutes when there came a knock at the door, fol- 
lowed by the same whistle he had heard from the 
street. Dick’s face lighted, as if he had been ex- 
pecting this. He sprang up to answer it, and 


146 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


ushered in — Foley! When Joe saw his well-re- 
membered face — there was still a scar on it that 
Joe was responsible for — Joe’s heart went down 
in his boots. Two against one — ^with Dick and 
Foley for the two ! 

Joe didn’t look up again. It wasn’t any of his 
business if Dick did bring his friends in when he 
had been forbidden to. Maybe Dick thought he 
would get Joe discussing with him about that; but 
Joe would show him. That Dick just wasn’t going 
to get Joe into trouble again; no, sir, not if Joe 
knew it ! 

Joe had a lot of work to do that night. Exam- 
inations were coming, and all the teachers were 
assigning extra long lessons so there would be 
more time for review. Joe was glad Foley didn’t 
notice him, by a word or even a glance, even when 
Dick vanished for a moment into the inner rooms 
and left the two alone together. 

Dick as suddenly reappeared. 

‘H’ve shut the three doors between us and the 
kids,” reported Dick. ‘‘They won’t hear any- 
thing. Joe!” he turned suddenly to him, “we 
want something of you, and we’re goin’ to have it, 
see!” 

Something in the two pairs of eyes fixed on him 
made Joe spring to his feet with excitement. 

“What!” he demanded. 

“Just tell us the address of that friend o’ yours, 


DICK AGAIN 147 

an’ we won’t hurt you. Then goody boy can go 
back to his ’ittle booksies.” 

‘‘I’d like to know what you want it for!” 

“None o’ your business.” 

“Then that’s easily settled. I shan’t.” Joe 
sat down again, outwardly calm but inwardly shak- 
ing. “And you won’t hurt me, anyway.” 

“We’ll see about that!” threatened Dick. 
“Won’t we, Pete!” 

“You bet we will,” echoed Foley. 

“You don’t either of you dare tackle me alone !” 
cried Joe, scornfully; excited by the knowledge 
that what he said was true. 

“That’s all right, sonny. We don’t have to 
worry about that this time. Hold him, Dick. 
I’ve got a score to settle with him.” 

Both Dick and Foley made a concerted rush 
toward Joe. Joe tried to meet them both : but one 
went on each side; Joe’s feet got tangled up in 
the chair he overturned; and down he went, with 
both of them on top of him. Even in that exciting 
moment, J oe ’s thoughts flashed back to Dauntless 
Dermit, the Boy Lieutenant, thrashing eight full- 
grown mutineers; and he realized, rather grimly, 
how stupidly impossible his former pet book really 
was. 

“Things are different, now,” taunted Foley, 
slapping his cheek. “Tell us that address — quick 
— if you know what’s good for you!” 


148 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Not much answered Joe, bracing himself for 
the pummeling that came. 

“Will you nowf^* 

“No!^’ 

“I’ll punch your head — ’’ 

“Go on.” 

“Oh, just thumping him’s no good,” put in 
Hick, getting tired of holding back Joe’s ceaseless 
struggles to free himself. “He gets plenty o’ 
them from the old man. Try somethin’ differ- 
ent.” 

Foley came to Dick’s rescue as Joe nearly 
wrenched free. “Punch him hard,” said Foley. 
“He’ll squeal in a minute. I can see it in his 
eye.” 

That was what J oe was afraid of, — that by-and- 
by he wouldn’t want to hold out any longer. So 
Foley could see it already! No, Foley was 
bluffing ! 

Dick took his turn at punching. ‘ ‘ Oh, try some- 
thin ’ different,” he suggested. “You must 
know. ’ ’ 

“Twist his arm — burn his hand with a hot 
poker,” responded Foley, with glee. 

But Joe was too wary to give them a chance to 
get hold of his arm; and the comer he was in 
hindered his opponents from getting at him con- 
veniently, both at once. 

“Bring him out in the floor,” ordered Foley. 

Joe didn’t want to be forced from his corner, 


DICK AGAIN 


149 


but he couldn’t help himself. Once more the 
scuffle began. Dick and Foley were not self -con- 
trolled enough to keep from giving way to sun- 
dry shouts of encouragement and execration. 
‘^Good,” thought Joe, “the more noise the bet- 
ter!” 

There came a thundering knock on the door. 
All three paused. 

“What’s the row in there? You’re disturbing 
the whole house. Quit it, or we ’ll call the police. ’ ’ 

Dick and Foley looked at each other. That 
they didn’t want the police was quite evident. 

Then Dick spoke, in a voice which imitated Mr. 
Darby’s. He could do it to perfection. “If a 
man can’t thrash his own boy when he needs it, 
I’d like to know the reason why?” 

“Oh, is that it?” laughed the person outside. 
“Well, he needn’t disturb the whole house, unless 
the boy’s bigger than he is.” Then Joe heard a 
comment to some one else outside : “It ’s only that 
Joe Darby catchin’ it again,” he explained. 
‘ ‘ Poor little beggar. ’ ’ 

“Daresay he needs it. He’s a tough one,” an- 
swered the other, as their footsteps receded down 
the stairs. 

But the pause had given J oe time to think. He 
hadn’t thought of the door before. There was no 
sense in staying there, and it wouldn’t be cow- 
ardice to run. Of course Dick had locked the out- 
side door, but he had left the key in the keyhole. 


150 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


So, when Dick and Foley turned their attention to 
him again, Joe — ^very warily, so they would not 
suspect — managed to get near the door in the next 
scufifle. Then, standing sidewise against it, he 
turned the key with his left hand before they Teal- 
ized what he was doing. Though they understood 
now, he was able to open it — to hold it open with 
his knee while he kept oif a last attack — then to 
slip through, leaving his coat in Dick^s hands. 
Pell-mell, he ran down the stairs; but nobody fol- 
lowed. 

Fortunately, Joe met a schoolmate who lived in 
the lower flat; and the latter was glad to take Joe 
in, and let him sit by the parlor window, where he 
could watch for Mr. and Mrs. Darby’s return. 
Joe knew there was no particular damage Dick 
and Foley could do — except perhaps to his books, 
— and he would have to risk that. They probably 
would play poker the entire evening. He hated 
wasting the time, which he needed for study; but 
it couldn’t be helped — and anyway, he hadn't told 
— and a Scout is cheerful ! 

Joe saw the Darby party when they turned the 
corner of the block; so he was able to hurry up 
the stairs ahead of them. Dick and Foley looked 
up from their cards when Joe entered. 

‘‘That means the old man’s cornin’ pretty soon,” 
said Dick to Foley, meaningly. Foley understood, 
swept the cards and the winnings into his pocket, 


DICK AGAIN 


151 


and vanished out of the flat like lightning. Joe 
dropped down into the chair by the table, and both 
presented an unusual scene of fraternal peace and 
quiet when the rest entered. 

It was a week or two later when Dick came upon 
Joe reading the Handbook. Dick stopped and 
stared. His attention was caught by the sema- 
phore signalers on the cover. 

“What’s that you’re readin’?” he asked. 
“ Oh ! ” disgustedly. ^ ‘Boy Scout stuff ! Where ’d 
you get it? Eoy? Le’s see it.” 

Joe thought he’d just let Dick see how interest- 
ing the book was that he scorned. So Joe passed 
the book over, rather readily. And, too, it might 
do Dick as much good as it had done him. 

“It’s great,” said Joe, enthusiastically. “It 
tells you so much!” 

Dick took it eagerly, and opened it at once. 
Something in his manner made Joe look up again. 

''Yes, it does! Thanks, awfully!” sneered 
Dick. He slapped the book together and handed it 
back to Joe with a triumphant leer. 

A sudden cold fear came over Joe. He opened 
the book — it opened easily to the flyleaf — and on 
that flyleaf he saw, in the square hand that the 
blind use when they write with a pencil: Boy’s 
name and address! 

Dick knew ! Dick knew where Roy lived! J oe ’s 
own carelessness and thoughtlessness and prig- 


152 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


gishness had done it — his carelessness with a book 
Eoy had loaned him ! — his priggishness at the con- 
ceited thought of reforming Dick! 

Although it was something Joe had been think- 
ing much about for the past month, he couldn’t 
make it seem possible now that the thing he had 
dreaded had actually come about. And what was 
he to do now? There was no way he could warn 
them of Dick, as Dick well knew. There was no 
w^ay of stopping Dick, and Joe quickly put away 
a thought of telling his father. 

‘‘I’ve got to stop him,” thought Joe desperately. 
“I’ve just got to. But how? How shall I ever — 
hnoiv whenV^ He gritted his teeth. ^^Vll stop 
him — somehow ! ’ ’ 

But the how of that somehow troubled Joe more 
than he would confess even to himself ! 


CHAPTER XIV 


TWO PEOPLE LEABN SOMETHING 

T he worry over when Dick was going to do 
it, and the responsibility Joe had assumed 
to prevent Dick’s doing it, made Joe’s life 
for the next seven days a round of misery. Dur- 
ing the day hQ felt easy about Dick; for he and 
Dick both knew that Mrs. Manners wore her rings 
all the day, so there was no chance of a robbery 
then. But in the evening Joe watched Dick like 
a hawk. If he didn’t come home as usual, or if he 
went out at all in the evening, Joe was nearly 
crazy. The result was, that Joe lost his appetite; 
he didn’t sleep nights; he became so fidgety that 
he broke things around the house, and so irritable 
that even Sis wondered. At first he thought that 
the rest of the family didn’t notice it; but, coming 
home one night a bit later than usual, he was soon 
disabused of even that comfortable assurance. 

As he paused for breath, at the top of the four 
flights of stairs, before opening the door, Joe 
found his father had already come home. The 
sound of his voice always made Joe pause, invol- 
untarily, to see whether he were in a cross or 
a pleasant mood. 

“What in the dickens is the matter with that 
153 


154 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Joe lately r’ he heard Mr. Darby grumble, just as 
he was about to turn the door-knob. 

‘‘Have you noticed it too!’^ asked Mrs. Darby 
in a worried voice. “He hasn’t been himself at 
all lately. I’m ’fraid he’s sick.” 

“Sick, nawthin’,” commented Mr. Darby, 
shortly. 

“He may be cornin’ down with something,” she 
ventured. 

“Well, I’ll find out what he’s cornin’ down with, 
all right,” asserted Mr. Darby, in no uncertain 
tone. 

“I dunno, but sometimes he acts just like Jack 
acted, before — ” his mother’s voice trailed away 
pathetically, as it always did when she spoke of 
Jack — who had run away from home three years 
ago and never been heard from since. 

put a flea in his ear about rifnnin’ away,” 
assured Mr. Darby, grimly. 

“Now don’t be hasty — ^he’s been a good boy 
lately — ^helped me a lot — ” 

“Now, old lady, you can’t understand boys. 
Like enough when he’s too good he’s only plannin’ 
some divilment. But 1 know what’ll fetch ’em.” 
(Joe wondered if it were the trunk strap he re- 
ferred to.) The fact that Mr. Darby’s superior 
understanding had resulted in one boy’s being a 
worthless loafer, and the next one ’s running away, 
didn’t seem to disturb Mr. Darby’s equanimity in 
the least. “I’ll interview him,” promised he. 


TWO PEOPLE LEAKN SOMETHING 155 


So, thought Joe, outside, he didn’t have enough 
worries — there was an ‘interview” coming with 
his father! He opened the door and slunk in. 
The fact that his father was watching him added 
to his guilty, self-conscious look. But he was per- 
mitted to pass through the kitchen unmolested. 
He went into the parlor and sat down to think. 

So he was to expect soon, that Mr. Darby would 
question him. What was he to say? Could he 
tell him? ‘‘No,” concluded Joe, decidedly. 
“This is my job. I’m goin’ to see it through 
alone. I’m responsible for it, and I’ll straighten 
it out. Anyway, what could he do about it, more 
than I could do?” 

“Joe! Joe! How many times do ye want to 
be called to meals ? ’ ’ 

Joe sighed. He had all he could carry before — 
now there was that “interview” ahead of him. 
He went slowly out and took his place at the table. 
But he ate still less than ever, and sat pecking 
away at one piece of bread, hoping no one would 
notice. 

“Joe, what ails you? You ain’t eatin’. You 
ain’t sick, are you?” asked his mother, anxiously. 

Joe frowned. Why would they keep worrying 
him? What did they care, except that it bothered 
him! 

“You sick?” repeated Mr. Darby, sharply. 
“Since when did ye stop speakin’ when you’re 
spoke to?” 


156 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


Joe didn’t dare look np. ^^No, sir,” lie an- 
swered. 

^‘Then you eat your dinner. Hear meU’ 

‘‘Yes, sir,” mumbled Joe, sulkily; and crammed 
a huge piece of bread into his mouth. Evidently 
the “interview” was going to be a painful one. 
Joe wished his father wouldn’t treat him like a 
kid. He’d do anything for him, when his eyes 
twinkled into Joe’s, and he spoke as one man to 
another. Mr. Darby’s eyes did not twinkle to- 
night, but glowered. For he had thought, one 
while, that Joe might be going to turn out differ- 
ently; and it didn’t look so now. 

As luck would have it, one of the neighbors came 
in, asking Mrs. Darby to come and hear their new 
phonograph records. Mrs. Darby took the baby, 
and the little girls went, too. Dick went out on 
the street — much to Joe’s uneasiness — so Joe was 
left alone with his father. Conditions were pro- 
pitious for an “interview!” 

Joe cleared a place on the table and started to 
study ; but things went wrong from the start. He 
broke his pencil-point two or three times ; his alge- 
bra examples would not come out right. He 
frowned and fidgeted, and clutched his hair and 
chewed his pencil, all the time wanting, but not 
daring, to look up at Mr. Darby, who sat smoking 
with his feet on the stove. 

Poor Joe was in misery. He had to sit there 
and try— no, pretend, to study. There was no 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 157 


other time to do his lessons, and no other place 
to go. Any minute Mr. Darby might begin to ask 
him questions. His examples were all wrong, and 
he knew it ; but he could copy them for handing in 
and get credit for having tried them, and for the 
parts that were right. 

So thinking, Joe reached jerkily for the ink- 
bottle. He didnT quite reach it, but he did suc- 
ceed in tipping it over. A black stream flowed 
toward Mrs. Darby ’s new table-cloth, pushed back 
for Joe’s studying. With an exclamation, Joe 
tried to push it out of the way — and instead 
pushed a cup from the edge of the table. 

Joe heard his father rouse himself, as the boy 
started to pick up the pieces of crockery. 

‘‘What’s the matter wi’ you lately?” he began. 

“Nawthin’,” answered Joe; glad he was under 
the table at that particular moment. But he 
couldn’t stay there very long! 

“That makes four dishes you’ve broke this 
week,” continued Mr. Darby. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to~” Joe was wiping 
up the ink now, with his back to the enemy. 

Mr. Darby waited in silence till Joe, finishing 
the ink, sat down and started to study again. Mr. 
Darby continued to study him, 

“You ain’t e’t anything meal-times f ’r three or 
four days,” he announced. “Are you sick?” 

Joe shook his head. The interview was coming 
— now! To himself he thought “A Scout is 


158 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


brave, but be didn^t feel very brave. He wished 
it were over. 

‘^You’re worryin’ about somethin’,’^ went on 
the man. 

Joe laid down bis pencil and looked away. Mr. 
Darby went on, 

‘‘Wbat is itr’ 

Joe muttered, ‘‘Nawtbin’.’^ 

‘‘TbaUs a lie. Sis is all right? And you and 
Sis?’’ 

Joe nodded. 

‘‘Anything wrong with your job?” 

Joe shook his head. 

“Goin’ t’ git left in school?” 

Again Joe wagged his head. 

“Dick been botherin’ ye?” 

Well, Dick had been bothering him, but not in 
the way Mr. Darby meant. So Joe shook his head 
for a third time. 

“What is it, then?” But Joe sat silent, knit- 
ting his black brows. 

“I arsked ye a question,” went on Mr. Darby, 
with growing irritation at having been put oif so 
long. “Maybe with your fine new job you’re too 
fine to speak to your father, hey? We’ll see about 
that!” 

“You know that isn’t so,” said Joe, flushing at 
the implication, but speaking gently. 

Now Joe’s very quietness was a source of irri- 
tation to Mr. Darby, because he couldn’t under- 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 159 

stand it. A sudden thought struck the man. 
‘'He's been with this soft blind chap so much he's 
gittin' soft ! Gittin' feard o' me, he is — feard I'll 
git mad an' hurt him, by gum! Well, I will. If 
he needs hardening, I can harden him!" So he 
jerked out, — 

“Come here, you!" 

Joe rose more promptly than he answered. It 
would soon be over now. 

“I'll teach ye to tell me what I know and what 
I don't know!" he said, snarlingly. “I know 
what's the matter with ye. Plannin' to run away 
from home, hey? I'll say just this — Go! The 
sooner the better. But when ye come back I'll 
give ye one thrashin' that you'll remember." 

Joe fumbled with a button on his coat. Was he 
to blame that Dick was what he was? Wasn't he 
simply trying to keep his own job, in spite of Dick. 
His father ought to trust him. It wasn't fair — 
no, it wasn't fair ; for Dick to loaf, and he to work, 
and then have Dick worry him for fear Dick would 
make him lose his place. Nor it wasn 't fair for his 
father to bother him just because things were all 
snarled up through no fault of his own. 

“Speak, or I'll know the reason why. What's 
wrong with ye? Stop sulkin'." The sight of 
Joe twiddling his button, and looking what Mr. 
Darby considered both sulky and “scared of a 
lickin' " made Mr. Darby sure of what the boy 
needed. He struck at Joe. Joe wanted, for Sis's 


160 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


sake, to have it go on as quietly as possible. But 
Mr. Darby tipped over his own chair as he rose ; 
and Joe, staggering to keep his feet, tipped over 
another. Joe heard Sis call from way in to her 
room. A thought occurred to him: if he ran out 
of the flat and down-stairs, Mr. Darby would fol- 
low, and Sis wouldn’t hear any of it. Joe acted 
on this impulse, and bolted down the stairs. 

Mr. Darby was now thoroughly angry; thor- 
oughly sure that his diagnosis of Joe’s case as 
cowardice was right ; doubly angry because it was 
right; and provoked that the neighbors should 
know about his paternal difficulties and duties. So 
he followed Joe. The racket they made caused 
doors to fly open along the way. 

^‘Old man Darby chasin’ his boy,” explained one 
to another. 

^‘Some speed in that kid! I bet on him,” jol- 
lied another. 

‘ ^ See him go it ! Lickety-split ! ’ ’ 

Down in the basement “old man Darby” caught 
up with his boy, as Joe had planned. 

“I’ve got ye cornered,” he exulted, angrier than 
Joe had ever seen him. “You’ll only catch it 
worse when I do get ye ! ” 

J oe, behind a big box, only waited. He had been 
afraid of that, but still he was glad he had come. 
Mr. Darby approached cautiously. Joe was good 
at dodging, and was lighter on his feet than the 
tired laborer. 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 161 


‘ ^ I know that, ’ ’ said J oe, quietly. ^ H ’m coming 
out. I’m not — afraid.” The laugh at his cow- 
ardice on the way had stung his pride. ‘‘I want 
you to know — why I came down here — so — Sis — 
wouldn ’t hear. I didn ’t just — run away. ’ ’ 

J oe came out quietly as soon as he had said that, 
and walked up to his father. 

Mr. Darby hesitated. He didn’t know this new, 
queer, quiet Joe. The boy certainly wasn’t acting 
scared now. He hadn’t thought of Sis. Bah! 
Joe was just pretending, now he was caught, so he 
would get off easy. He was only growing slick, 
like Dick. 

‘‘Yes ; a whole lot you did,” he announced, when 
he had Joe secure in his hands. “Ye didn’t look 
like runnin’I Why don’t ye think o’ Sis before 
ye act so, then?” And he prepared to give Joe a 
cuflSng. 

“And I wish — ^you wouldn’t hit me — ^where it 
shows,” added Joe. “Not for myself — my 
job — ” 

“All right. Take off y’r coat an’ pass me that 
rope, an’ I wun’t!” laughed Mr. Darby, grimly, 
not thinking he meant it, except to beg off; for a 
few cuffs didn’t seem to him to compare with what 
he called “a good regular thrashin’.” Yet here 
was Joe asking for it! Well: he’d get it! He’d 
see what it was he was asking for ! 

To his surprise, Joe looked relieved; threw off 
his coat and handed Mr. Darby what he needed. 


162 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


Mr. Darby didn’t know Joe was saying to himself 
Scout is brave,” all the while as he did it, and 
hoping that he looked braver than he felt. A mo- 
ment before Mr. Darby had been angry because 
of Joe’s apparent fear; now he was angry because 
he thought he could no longer control him by fear. 
He’d see ; and so would Joe ! 

And so Joe ‘^got it,” with thoroughness and 
dispatch. 

^‘Put on y’r coat an’ come upstairs,” said Mr. 
Darby, as he let go of Joe. He was puzzled that 
Joe had not burst out into a passion of angry im- 
precations, as he did the last time ; for Mr. Darby 
had made up his mind to test his theory of soft- 
ness, and he knew exactly how much muscle he had 
used. He had no way of knowing, though, that 
Joe simply had been saying to himself, “This is 
just what I deserve for lettin’ Dick fool me.” 

“I’ll come — in a minute,” gulped Joe. He 
needed a few minutes by himself to calm down. 

“Don’t make me come after ye,” warned Mr. 
Darby, as he went upstairs. 

The first thing that greeted him was a call from 
Sis. 

‘ ‘ Daddy, did you hurt my Joe U ’ she asked re- 
proachfully. 

“Not so he wun’t get over it,” said Mr. Darby 
tenderly. He realized, now, for the first time, that 
when he hurt Joe he did hurt Sis. “Ye don’t un- 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHINO 163 


derstand. Boys has to git so many tannin’s t’ 
make ’em good for anything. 

‘'But what’s the matter wi’ Joe lately? Do you 
know?” he asked, thinking perhaps she held the 
key to the mystery. 

“Oh, my!” she cried in delight. “Have you 
noticed, then — that he ’s different ? ’ ’ 

Mr. Darby might have said — as he thought — 
“I’ve just given him the darndest licking because 
of that difference!” What he did say, however, 
was a gentle, ‘ ‘ So you ’re in the secret, hey ? ’ ’ 

“There’s no secret, exactly. He’s been livin’ 
up to the Scout Laws. ’ ’ 

“What’s asked Mr. Darby, blankly. 

“Oh — don’t you know?” Sis’s tone implied 
that her father knew everything under the sun 
worth knowing. 

“Seems t’ me I’ve heard tell of Scouts,” he re- 
plied vaguely. “But you tell.” 

“I can’t tell as well as the book can. We keep 
it here, because I read it as much as Joe,” she 
laughed, pulling it from under her pillow. “It’s 
so splendid to have a big brother like that.” She 
turned to the well-worn page of the Scout Oath and 
the Scout Laws, and passed it to Mr. Darby. 

He read it, slowly and wonderingly. It was 
almost beyond his understanding that a boy — a 
boy like his Joe! — ^would, of his own accord choose 
to try to live up to such a code. But now he 


164 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


thought he understood, some of the small differ- 
ences in Joe — ^his unwonted self-restraint appeared 
in a new light; his quiet answers, and prompt 
obedience were not from fear. His thoughtfulness 
of Sis — his helping round the house — ! 

Mr. Darby thumped his knee with his fist. If 
being a Scout did mean all that — could do all these 
things to Joe — the sooner Joe became one, the bet- 
ter. He would find out what it cost, though; the 
pictures showed Scouts in uniform, with all sorts 
of equipment. 

‘‘Suppose that for Joe to be a Scout, meant I’d 
have to borrow from your fund?” he asked Sis, 
just to hear what she’d say. Her answer stag- 
gered him. 

“Do you mean — you’d really do it!” she 
shrieked, delightedly. “He deserves it, but he’d 
never think of such a thing, nor he wouldn’t let 
you do it if he knew. But you see — I couldn’t 
help hearing what he did with his dollar — and it 
isn’t fair for me to take every cent of it — ” 

“Well, well; we’ll see,” said Mr. Darby, to 
quiet her. “So that ’s what ’s been worryin ’ Joe ! ” 
he thought. (Quite incorrectly, however.) “Of 
all the fool boys!” 

“But the money’s the worst trouble, isn’t it?” 
she asked. “I wouldn’t want him to be a Scout 
and not have a uniform and look like one. 
Wouldn’t Joe look dandy in that — see!” She 
showed her father the picture. “I’d like to see 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 165 


him in it,’’ she added wistfully — ^unconsciously 
making the strongest plea she could have made. 

“Well, well; we’ll see,” said Mr. Darby again. 
“Say; how did Joe get on track of Scouts'?” he 
asked. 

“Oh, Eoy is one, and he lent him the Hand- 
book/^ she explained. 

Sitting rather limply on the box, the boy won- 
dered if he had looked scared. The first thing 
he did after his father went upstairs was to go 
over to an abandoned bureau that happened to be 
near, and look at himself in the cracked mirror. 
He was surprised and rather ashamed at the ex- 
cited face that glared hack at him. 

“Guess I won’t go up lookin’ like this,” he mut- 
tered. He knew Sis would call him in as soon as 
he got there. So he leaned hack and meditated. 
Had he carried out the Scout Laws ? He began to 
repeat them. 

^‘A Scout is trustworthy — I could have lied 
and saved myself — ^but I didn’t!” A Scout is 
loyal — ^yes, he had been loyal to his brother Dick 
by not telling, and loyal to Sis, because telling 
might have resulted in dismissal. Had he been 
loyal, in not telling, to his parents? Joe wasn’t 
sure. Maybe it wasn’t fair to his father to let 
Dick get himself into trouble, and perhaps the rest, 
without telling. But whichever way you looked 
at this question, there was something wrong 
and something right. A Scout is helpful — his 


166 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


mother had said he had been helpful, Joe remem- 
bered, with a glow of pride ; yet on top of that his 
father — ^but that thought was disloyal. He had 
helped Sis, just now, by taking a worse punish- 
ment so she wouldn’t hear it. Perhaps, though, 
she would be worrying about him till he returned 
and showed a cheerful — no, sir, a smiling face. 
He tried this now, but didn’t succeed. A Scout 
is obedient — had he been? Not exactly, because 
his father had told him to tell what was worrying 
him, and he hadn’t. But that was only because — 
Oh, there was that same old double-sided problem 
again. A Scout is cheerful — No, it certainly 
wasn’t a cheerful countenance that glared back at 
him. Nor he hadn’t been cheerful upstairs, in his 
answers, nor courteous, either. A Scout is 
brave — He knew he had been brave. He had been 
afraid; he had had good reason to be; but being 
brave didn’t mean, not being afraid, but acting 
‘Un spite of fear.” 

J oe heard some one coming along the cemented 
passageway that led from the sidewalk steps to the 
dumbwaiter. Some late-working delivery-boy, he 
thought. He didn’t want to be found thus; so he 
slipped down behind a big packing-box. 

As soon as the person came in sight Joe knew 
it wasn’t a delivery-boy. It was one of Dick’s 
cronies; it was— yes, Foley! Joe drew a deep 
breath of anticipation. Foley looked about first. 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 167 


then he put his lips to the dumbwaiter whistle that 
Joe knew was theirs, and blew. 

It was Dick’s voice that answered. So he had 
come in, thought Joe, in relief. Dick must have 
been expecting him, for Dick never stirred himself 
to answer the dumbwaiter whistle. Joe waited, 
breathless with suspense. 

^ ^ Sparklers r ’ asked Foley. 

‘‘Well!” 

‘ ‘ To-night. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ All right. Shut up, ’ ’ came Dick ’s guarded an- 
swer. Foley then slammed the dumbwaiter door 
and went jauntily out. 

Joe fairly gasped at his good-fortune. Spar- 
hlers easily stood for diamonds. To-night was 
clear in itself. By the strangest chain of coinci- 
dences Joe had been able to learn the night of 
Dick’s intended robbery without the slightest sus- 
picion! If he hadn’t worried over it — if his fa- 
ther hadn’t noticed it — if he hadn’t refused to tell 
— if he hadn’t thought of Sis when his father got 
angry — Joe wouldn’t have been down here just 
when he had been. If he had been upstairs, Dick 
would have known he knew. 

Now his first care was to keep Dick from sus- 
pecting. His father had probably mentioned 
where Joe was, or might mention it casually when 
Joe went upstairs. So Joe thought out a ruse 
worthy of Dauntless Dermit. He took pains to 


168 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


go out of the cellar onto the street. Then he hur- 
ried upstairs. He meant to make Dick feel that 
he had not been in the basement when Foley was 
there. 

Dick was in great good humor when Joe en- 
tered. ‘‘Been teasin' Sis again?" he asked, as a 
pleasantry. “Have a handkerchief, for 'is 'ittle 
red nose." 

“None o' your business!" growled Joe. 

“Dick, you let Joe alone," interposed Mr. 
Darby, to Joe's surprise. “You took a darned 
long time to come up from the basement," he ob- 
served to Joe, with a laugh that Joe felt was meant 
to be friendly — though he couldn't fathom why! 

“I went out on the street a minute," answered 
Joe truthfully; and was rewarded by seeing Dick 
look relieved. A little later Joe made occasion 
to turn conversation that way, and ask ; 

“Where's our friend Foley, anyway? He 
basnet been at school since our difference. Has 
he left town?" 

Joe imagined that a last vestige of worry on 
Dick's face cleared away at that question — as Joe 
had intended it should. And how readily Dick 
lied: 

‘ ‘ Foley ? Oh, I haven 't seen him since — ^you and 
I saw him." 

J oe picked up his books into a neat pile. ‘ ‘ Guess 
I'd rather study in the morning," he said. “Will 
somebody wake me at six?" 


TWO PEOPLE LEAEN SOMETHING 169 


‘^Goin’ to bed early, hey?’’ grinned Mr. Darby, 
meaningly. 

Joe grinned back sheepishly, ‘H’m tired to- 
night,” he evaded. ‘H’d rather do my work in 
the morning.” 

And he thought Dick looked relieved again. 

His next problem, now Dick thought he didn’t 
know, and that he would be soon safe in bed, was 
to go over his plans for preventing the robbery. 
He could do that in bed. He had to go to bed 
to fool Dick, and to deceive them all. He must see 
Sis first. 

Sis greeted him with a radiant face. ‘ H ’ve told 
dad — about the Scouts!” she announced proudly. 
‘Hie was real interested — ” 

“But when in the world?” he interrupted. 

“Just now, to-night.” 

Joe couldn’t believe his ears. There hadn’t 
been a time that had appeared auspicious enough 
for him to dare broach the subject; and least of all 
to-night, just after Mr. Darby had given him “a 
good one!” Of course. Sis hadn’t known about 
that. That was why she had ventured. 

“What did he say?” asked Joe. 

“Oh, he was real interested, and looked at the 
Handbook, and is going to look at it again.” 

“Sis,” said Joe, solemnly, **youWe the very best 
Scout I know!” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE GEEAT ADVENTUBE 

J OE started to go to bed almost as soon as 
be bad finished bis talk with Sis. In spite 
of present physical discomforts resulting 
from events in the basement, bis spirits felt a 
strange thrill. For circumstances bad played 
most unbelievably into bis hands ; be bad outwitted 
Dick in the most vital of matters ; bis father was 
not unwilling for him to become a Scout ; and that 
night he was going forth through the dark on his 
first great adventure. All the tales he had read 
came to him in procession. He thought of the 
ancient knights, setting forth on a quest that was 
to prove them worthy of knighthood. He thought 
of the old pioneer Scouts, pursuing their silent 
vigils, or silent trackings, through the forest 
against their relentless enemies. He, too, was go- 
ing forth that night, on a great adventure and a 
tremendous task : to save his friends without their 
knowing it; and to save his brother, against his 
will. 

He walked on air as he broke away from the 
noisily chattering circle in the kitchen. What if 
Dick did jeer, and his father joke, because he 
170 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE 


171 


wanted to go to bed so early! His mother looked 
anxious and his sisters awed, as he passed them. 
He thought they were pitying him. He didn^t 
know that the effort to act as usual, and the in- 
ward knowledge of his great adventure gave his 
countenance a shining look of manliness new to it. 

Joe slept on a couch in what the architect had 
planned as a dining-room for the five-room flat; 
but which was shared as a sleeping-room by Joe, 
Dick, and five-year-old Johnny. This made it 
easy for Joe to follow Dick’s movements that 
night. 

Joe felt his heart beat more rapidly as he flung 
off his clothes. This act was the beginning of his 
adventure; although all he had to do, now, for a 
long space of time, was to wait — wait till all the 
family came to bed. Dick would be last ; then Dick 
would keep silent till everybody was asleep ; finally 
he would stealthily, silently rise, dress, and go 
out. Then Joe would stealthily, silently rise, 
dress, and follow him, and the real adventure 
would begin. 

For awhile Joe lay and planned. He was 
watching his armor now! Just how he was to 
prevent the robbery he didn’t know. He must de- 
pend on circumstances for a hint. First, he 
thought he would follow Dick closely; then he 
thought if Dick turned around and saw him, he 
could not help recognizing Joe. Besides, if Dick 
went into a saloon or into his club — as he would 


172 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


be quite likely to do — ^he might go out by a differ- 
ent entrance, and so be lost to Joe. No; Joe de- 
cided that, as soon as Dick went out, be would go 
himself; but he would make hot speed for Eoy’s 
house, and get there ahead of Dick^ who doubtless 
had to meet Foley and plan details. Joe would 
linger about till Dick and Foley appeared; then he 
would meet them — his heart thumped excitedly at 
this detail ! — tell them he knew, promise he would 
give alarm if they persisted, or to pursue them 
with justice if they overcame him by force and 
succeeded. After all, it wasn’t such fun doing the 
exciting things that Dauntless Dermit performed 
as a daily routine, and thought nothing of. 

Why didn’t the folks come to bed? Joe tossed 
about uneasily. He felt so restless he was sorry, 
now, he had gone to bed so early. For there would 
be hours of waiting, while Dick waited to make 
sure every one was asleep before he ventured to 
start. Here Joe was thankful for his father’s 
ministrations in the cellar, which were most ef- 
fectual in keeping him awake, out of sheer discom- 
fort. For just now, curled up on a soft bed in the 
dark, he felt so worn out with worrying, so sleepy 
with past sleeplessness, and so utterly weary, that 
every now and then he thought he was going to 
lose himself in sleep the very next minute. 

At last he heard Lizzie and Mary lead the way 
to bed. It was always a straggling procession: 
the two little girls; then Johnny; then Mr. and 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE 


173 


Mrs. Darby; then Dick, whenever he didnT stay 
out all night. Joe was thankful to see it start; 
though he knew it would be some time before its 
termination. 

Then in came Mrs. Darby, carrying the cross 
and sleepy Johnny. Joe kept perfectly still as she 
hovered about. He wished she’d think he was 
asleep. No such luck! When he was safely 
tucked in, she turned down the light as if she were 
going. But Johnny had thrown one of his shoes 
near Joe’s bed. She came over to pick it up, and 
whispered as she did so ; 

‘‘You ’wake, Joe?” 

He couldn’t deceive her; so he grunted an un- 
willing “ Yes. ” She still hovered about. 

“Joe — downstairs — did he — ” 

“Yes,” he answered in a gruff whisper. 

He felt her hand pat his shoulder. 

“You all right, Joe?” she asked again. 

“Sure.” 

Then she turned away, lingeringly. And, 
though he had squirmed under her kindly ques- 
tions, yet they made Joe feel better. He didn’t 
know when she’d been so sympathetic with him. 
Usually she agreed with Mr. Darby as to Joe’s bad- 
ness, while covering eyes and ears to escape hear- 
ing the results of it. 

Joe knew there would be a half-hour now, while 
his father smoked and his mother mended, and 
they both talked, with the children out of the way. 


174 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


A half-hour — thirty minutes — one thousand eight 
hundred seconds ! That is a long time when you 
count it out, lying motionless in bed. He listened 
to the clock ticking — how slowly it went ! 

But at last Joe’s waiting ears caught the sound 
of the hustle that meant the end. He heard his 
mother bolt the kitchen door; he heard his father 
wind the alarm-clock that woke him every morn- 
ing. What was to happen before that alarm again 
rang its noisy summons ! 

Presently they passed through Joe’s room. 
Mrs. Darby bent over Johnny to see if he were 
covered up well. Mr. Darby waited impatiently. 

‘^You ’wake, Joe?” he asked. But Joe didn’t 
answer. 

‘‘There! I told ye he was all right,” he ob- 
served impatiently to Mrs. Darby. 

“Sh-h! Don’t wake him up,” she warned, as 
they went onward. Joe giggled at the success of 
his ruse. He wondered what they had been say- 
ing about him, too. 

Now, where was Dick? Had he, perhaps, 
slipped out before this? Joe thought not, for a 
light from the kitchen cast a faint glimmer on the 
wall. 

“Dick,” called Mr. Darby, “git t’ bed, an’ don’t 
waste gas over that fool catalog. You'll never 
have any jewelry to worry about.” 

So Dick was looking over a jeweler’s catalog! 

Dick, with unwonted docility, came in directly. 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE 175 

Joe had thought he would be slick enough to do 
that. 

goin’ to bed now/’ he announced. ‘‘Gee, 
but I’m sleepy. You asleep, Joe?” he asked. 

Joe kept silent again. Now came the test. He 
had to lie absolutely still, as though he were 
asleep. He even had to think of how to breathe 
as one would in natural sleep. And just because 
he couldn’t stir, all the silly little nerves and mus- 
cles of his body seemed to be in a conspiracy to 
nake him move. Something tickled his right foot ; 
iil^ left foot, under it, began to show the first 
prickly sensations of “going to sleep.” All the 
many spots, too, on his anatomy, that smarted and 
ached and burned, seemed to try to make him 
move, even an inch. 

But Dick got to bed so quickly that Joe could 
only wonder if he had taken off all his clothes. 
When he turned off the light, he announced loudly, 
“ I ’m in bed, ’ ’ to his parents. Then all was quiet. 

Now — to keep perfectly still for the hours while 
Dick waited, listening. Wasn’t it a queer situa- 
tion: here was Dick, listening — here was Joe lis- 
tening to Dick — all in\he -Same tiny room not ten 
feet square. Dauntless Permit’s thrills were out- 
done already by real ones. 

But it didn’t seem ^ long to Joe as he had 
thought it would. Tlii little girls were surely 
asleep long ago ; it was 4e same with tired J ohnny. 
Mr. and Mrs. Darby wire always so tired that they 


176 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


dropped into a heavy sleep immediately; and the 
noise of their snores came as a welcome sound, 
almost as soon as the place was quiet. 

Presently Joe heard a stir; then, after an inter- 
val, another — a continued one this time. Hick^s 
bed creaked — then a floor-board under his toot. 
Dick was going! 

Joe^s heart turned a somersault in his throat. 
He wanted to shout with excitement. He was 
afraid he would move ; afraid he would betray b}, ' 
his very breathing that he was awake ; afraid tha, 
Dick would feel the tension in the air, by som. 
mysterious thought-process, and know that Joe 
was awake. 

The darkness helped Joe; for of course Dick 
didnT dare light the gas. As Joe thought this, he 
could have pummeled himself for not having put 
his own clothes where he could easily find them in 
the dark. Dick hadn’t been so stupid. There! 
Dick was all dressed now — he was tip-toeing in his 
stocking-feet into the kitchen. silently he 

did it! Joe heard absolute^ nothing i ' r a time. 
Then came the faint click of the bolt on ^he kitchen 
door — another faint thud as the door was shut 
again — Dick was gone! 

Joe lay perfectly still before he could stir. His 
hands clenched with the e^Lcitement of the moment. 

Suppose — oh, supposelT-after Dick had suc- 
cessfully dressed and escaped — that they should 
wake in the next room a^d hear him dressing! 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE 


177 


With cold hands Joe pushed back the bed-clothes. 
Adventures werenT nearly as much fun to do as 
they were to read about when Dauntless Dermit 
did them. 

That dressing was almost a nightmare to Joe. 
He couldn^t find his clothes without a hunt for 
each article. Apparently his mother had picked 
up after him and laid them neatly on various 
chairs. It was so dark and still ! The bed creaked 
and the floor clamored beneath his feet ; his hands 
and feet kept bumping up against things in the 
dark. And Mr. Darby was only a bare ten feet 
away ! Once the man stopped snoring and turned 
over with a mighty sigh! — and Joe felt himself 
turn white. He didnT dare move for the next five 
minutes after that. 

At last, however, he was ready to follow Dick’s 
example and tiptoe into the kitchen. By the door 
he put on his shoes ; then he opened the door, into 
the dark, silent, chilly hall. 

As he shut the door — thus locking himself out — 
Joe thought for the first time about next morning. 
How would he come back? He couldn’t even pic- 
ture how it would be. Would he tell? Would he 
be believed if he did tell? Then he chided him- 
self sternly for wavering. The coming back made 
no difference to the job in hand, which had to be 
done! 

Joe emerged into the dark, wet street. It had 
been a dull day when he came in; now, as if to- 


178 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


pile all possible discomforts onto a comfortless 
night, it was raining — a mean little drizzle, steady 
and cold, enough to chill heart as well as hands. 
Perhaps it was as well, thought Joe, as he hurried 
on. There would he less people about. But then, 
all the more noticeable were the people who were 
out. It seemed to Joe as if every corner he 
passed had its big, burly figure in blue standing 
back under shelter, swinging a suggestive club, and 
looking Joe over with questioning eyes as he 
slouched past. 

He mustn't slouch past them, he told himself. 
Why should he feel afraid of them*? He was going 
on an errand of tremendous importance. He, if 
any one, had a right to walk through the streets. 
He, if any one, should feel a comrade’s feeling 
towards those men in blue, for he and they were 
allied — even if they were unaware — in the same 
function — the prevention of crime. Why should 
he feel like a criminal — he who held the secret 
plans of two robbers, by which he would prevent 
their crime! And the next policeman, he felt, 
didn’t eye him so suspiciously, as he walked by 
with head up. 

The block where Mrs. Manners lived was utterly 
quiet. Not a soul was passing through the silent 
street. The trim rows of silent houses frowned 
down upon him as an intruder upon their peace. 
For a moment Joe felt afraid — suppose Dick and 
Foley did succeed in their robbery — and suppose 


THE GREAT ADVENTURE 


179 


some one was looking out, and saw him — Joe — 
and recognized him? ‘‘Maybe,’’ he thought for 
the first time — “Maybe I’ve been foolish in keepin’ 
it to myself. Maybe dad could have helped — ” 
But it was too late now to think of that. 

For the first time, another idea presented itself 
as a possibility: suppose Dick and Foley had 
planned to enter from the rear of the house. 

Joe couldn’t even think what to do with himself 
while he waited for the robbers to appear. He 
ought to be out of sight — out of sight of any one 
who would recognize him and perhaps think he 
was connected with the robbery; and out of sight 
of Dick and Foley when they came. Where could 
he hide? Now the flat brick fronts, all alike in 
their bareness, mocked at him. “Find a place to 
hide in us if you can,” they seemed to say, with 
shocked respectability. One might as well try to 
hide in the middle of the big gym floor at school. 

Joe intentionally passed Roy’s house on the op- 
posite side of the street. He was thinking that he 
might perhaps sit on the steps of one of the houses 
across the street — a poor plan, to be sure. The 
first policeman would order him to move on. But 
worst of all, he would not be concealed there from 
Dick and Foley when they came along. He looked 
up at Mrs. Manners’ dark windows; and felt, in 
spite of his perplexity, a thrill of exaltation. He 
was there, protecting them, and they didn’t know 
it! They didn’t even know their danger — but he 


180 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


did, and was there to save them! Then, when 
his eyes happened to fall to the basement, he saw 
that for once more in this terrible night fortune 
had favored him. 

In the tiny court beside the front steps of the 
next house Joe saw a huge packing-case. Why 
it hadn^t been taken apart in the process of un- 
packing was a marvel; likewise, why it hadn’t been 
knocked to pieces after its contents had been re- 
moved. Perhaps it had been delivered late at 
night — too late to do anything save take out its 
contents. Perhaps the man who unpacked it 
didn’t care to stay out in the rain just to take a 
box apart. Anyway, it was there! Once within 
it, Joe could wait, unseen and unsuspected, yet all- 
seeing. 

Joe was too wary to cross the street right there 
— to be seen by any policeman that happened to be 
at the corner, or by Dick and Foley if they were 
coming. So the boy went on to the corner, crossed, 
and went around the entire block, to approach 
from the same direction as before, but on the other 
side of the street. 

When he got to the house next Roy’s, he turned 
into the court. Now he breathed more easily. 
Even if he were discovered in the box, they would 
only think he was a homeless lad seeking shelter 
from the rain. The packing-case stood with its 
open side pointing inward from the street. The 
cavity that yawned to receive him was a yard 


THE GEEAT ADVENTURE 


181 


wide and a yard deep, and stood perhaps four feet 
high — room a-plenty. There were spaces between 
the boards through which Joe could see the bottom 
step of the flight that led to the front door, and 
the top step of those leading downward into the 
basement court. 

Joe pulled himself into the box, snail-like, made 
himself as comfortable as he could, and waited. 
If only there were not so much waiting in this ad- 
venture of his! It was so much harder to wait 
than to do ! 

For awhile it was even comfortable in the pack- 
ing-case ; for it was snug and out of the rain. But 
by and by came another trouble. The cold and 
the wet, and the darkness and silence — even the 
excitement — ^were so stupefying in their combined 
effect that Joe began to feel drowsy. The cold 
and the wet benumbed him; the darkness and si- 
lence lulled him; the continued excitement of all 
that had happened since he came home from school 
that afternoon, was so exhausting that Joe felt 
more tired than after the hardest day’s work he 
had ever done. Again he felt a grim thankfulness 
for Mr. Darby’s emphatic attentions of that eve- 
ning. Joe hadn’t had such a thrashing, he remem- 
bered, for a full two years. Wasn’t it lucky it had 
come just when it did! Yet he couldn’t to this 
minute tell just what it had been for ! 

Footsteps on the sidewalk — ^yes, approaching! 
Joe drew back from the knot-hole, but kept a steady 


182 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


look fastened on the visible bit of sidewalk and 
steps. A shadow — two feet and a flapping rain- 
coat, topped by an umbrella — no, not Dick, or 
Foley. How long would he have to wait! Per- 
haps for hours! What if something kept Dick 
from attempting it that night! How would Joe 
get home, and in! 

It did seem hours before Joe heard another step 
approaching. This step was softly cautious. In- 
deed, it was quite near before Joe heard it at all. 
It came nearer — hesitated just by Joe’s shelter — 
then — yes! — ^went cat-like up Roy’s steps. Joe 
well knew that stealthy tread — Dick had come! 


CHAPTER XVI 


POLICEMAN MURPHY CATCHES A BURGLAR 

F or a moment Joe could hardly catch his 
breath. Dick was there — ^breaking into 
Roy^s home. What should he dof What 
should he do? Although he had been thinking 
about this very thing for hours, yet now it was 
actually happening it seemed a gigantic impossi- 
bility ! A soft, grating noise — that was Dick 
opening the front door with a jimmy. Oh, why 
couldnT he think what to do ! Vhiat to do? — why, 
prevent him, of course. 

Joe tumbled out of the box and dashed up the 
steps of the house. He would stop Dick — tell him, 
threaten him, make him stop. When J oe reached 
the top — no Dick was there. One of the double 
front doors stood open; and the inner door stood 
open just a finger’s width. 

Dick — had got in — was in — getting the diamonds 
— now! Should he run in with a shout and alarm 
the house— and betray him? Dick would say he 
was Joe’s brother— could Joe deny it? Dick 
would get arrested — there would be a heavy fine — 
Mr. Darby would have to pay that fine, and it 
would be Joe’s fault ! Sis’s money would have to 
go! Should he give a peal on the doorbell to 

183 


184 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP. 


frighten Dick and make him come out? Should 
he stand there and shout for help ? 

For an instant Joe hesitated — and in that hesi- 
tation lost all choice. Before he could make up 
his mind to do anything, Joe heard Dick’s return- 
ing footsteps, and saw through the glass the oc- 
casional gleam of Dick’s pocket flashlight. 

The front door swung open, and they stood face 
to face. 

‘‘Dick!” cried Joe, appealingly. 

^ “ Joe I ” exclaimed Dick ; and his face went white. 
“What are you here for?” 

“To stop you — you mustn’t roh them. Give me 
the diamonds and I’ll put ’em back. You mustn’t 
— you mustnH!^* Joe clung to Dick to keep him 
there. 

Dick muttered an angry oath, and gripped Joe 
in his turn. 

“You fool!— now listen, you. Shut up — ^we’ll 
let you in on this. Half my share — ” 

“No, no; give it up — give ’em back — ” 

“But if you squeal — we’ll do for you, all right. 
Let go — ^we’ll he caught. ... If I’m sent up, 
you’ll go, too — ’’panted Dick, as they struggled in 
the narrow vestibule. “Do you want to get us 
both pinched ? They ’re awake up there ! ’ ’ 

In the struggle, Joe struck against something in 
Dick’s outside pocket: something hard and small 
and square. He knew that square box well. If 
he could only take it from Dick and let him go — 



Dick dropped the box 


Page 185 



A BURGLAE 


185 


but in trying to do this, he forgot what Dick wanted 
to do. The first thing he knew Dick had wrenched 
free and went tearing down the steps. Joe fol- 
lowed. A police whistle shrilled above their 
heads. Dick ran down the street, Joe after. For 
a block J oe kept right behind him. Then he began 
to gain on him, inch by inch. Dick put one hand 
in his pocket. What was he doing ? Was he draw- 
ing a pistol? 

‘‘Take it,’’ he shrieked back at Joe over his 
shoulder; and he flung a ring right at Joe’s feet. 

Joe stopped to pick it up — it would take only 
a second. Dick was getting winded now; ciga- 
rettes aren’t good training for chases of this kind. 
There were shouts behind them, too. Those folks 
would help Joe catch him. Joe gained, inch by 
inch. 

Then Dick dropped the box itself. It struck on 
its corner — split open — and the three other rings 
rolled in as many different directions. 

Joe didn’t care now about catching Dick. He 
had the rings, now. Could he get them back with- 
out any one’s knowing — 

“Ye’ll come with me, young gintleman,” said a 
voice at his ear. A heavy hand clutched him be- 
yond hope of escape; and Joe looked up into the 
face of a brawny policeman. Four or five other 
people came up now, and made an excited circle 
around the boy and his captor. 

Joe looked about hopelessly. Just what had 


186 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


happened? Why did they look at him so tri- 
umphantly ? Why had they stopped chasing Dick ? 
But then, Dick was his brother. Let him get away 
if he could. Joe needn’t explain their relation- 
ship to these people. And ever after, couldn’t he 
just have Dick in his power ! 

‘‘An’ I’m thinkin’ those pretty-hoys wad be 
safher wid me.” The policeman plucked the box 
from Joe’s nerveless hands. “We’ll go back to 
th’ s’ane of opyrrations, so to shpake, if ye’ll give 
us th’ pleasure of y’r company.” 

At the significant grin which went round the 
circle at these mocking words, Joe roused himself. 
“What are you going to do — ^with me?” he fal- 
tered. Then the truth dawned. “I’m not — ar- 
rested?” he cried, stopping short. 

‘ ‘ That ’s not a p ’int f ’r th ’ likes o ’ yez t ’ arrgy, ’ ’ 
answered the officer, pulling him onward. Then, 
as Joe, still stupefied with the shock, pulled back 
and would not move on, he stopped. 

“If wan of yez gintlemen wud kindly put him 
hand in me pocket, and pull out th’ silver brace- 
lets that I f requintly carry f ’r to admire. They ’re 
not as valyble as diamond rings, young feller, but 
they’re th’ best in th’ line o’ jewelry thot I kin 
offer. Thanks, sorr. On his right and my left. 
Thank yez kindly.” 

It had taken but a moment for one of the on- 
lookers to snap one bracelet of the handcuffs on 
Joe’s right wrist, and the other on the policeman’s 


A BURGLAR 187 

left. Back they marched, then to the scene of the 
burglary. 

The quiet block had been transformed. Lights 
shone in many windows ; heads were sticking out of 
others, and voices called out in question. On 
Roy’s sidewalk a crowd was collected, and was 
being kept back by the industrious efforts of an- 
other policeman. 

‘^Good work, Murphy,” this individual called to 
Joe’s captor. 

There were murmured comments all through the 
throng. 

‘^Hillo, they’ve caught him — ” 

‘‘Why, he’s just a boy!” 

“Doesn’t he look scared, poor boy!” 

‘ ‘ Scared ! Aw, he ’s a tough little nut ! ’ ’ 

Joe’s cheeks were burning; and he was glad 
when his policeman led him up the steps and into 
the house. 

Into the parlor they went. Here the whole fam- 
ily was assembled, in an excited company, most 
curiously arrayed in the first garments they had 
chanced to seize. They were all talking excitedly 
till the policeman and his captive appeared, when 
a sudden silence ensued. 

Then Mrs. Manners gave a horrified shriek when 
she saw it was Joe. 

“Why, what in the world ! — ^What are you doing 
here? Joe Darhy!^^ she exclaimed. “Officer, 
you’ve made some mistake.” 


188 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Mr. Manners, a dried-up, bird-like little man 
whom J oe had never seen before, stood lifting his 
bare feet alternately, like an excited cat. He 
pricked up his ears when Mrs. Manners spoke, 
and, losing his eyeglasses from his nose, 

‘‘Is it — er — that boyU’ he asked in a nervous 
voice. 

“Mother — did you say Joe was here? What 
for?’’ asked Roy, with a puzzled face that blind- 
ness made pathetic. 

The policeman listened impatiently. 

“Phwat? Do yez know him?” he asked in sur- 
prise. 

‘ ‘ Know him ! I should say so, ’ ’ cried Mrs. Man- 
ners, tearfully. Joe didn’t see what she had to 
cry about. Mr. Manners started to speak, but lost 
off his eyeglasses again, and subsided. 

“Well, who is he?” demanded Policeman Mur- 

pby- 

Mrs. Manners wrung her hands. 

“He’s the boy that was the guide for my son, 
here, who is blind ; and came and studied with him 
every day. ’ ’ 

Was the guide, Joe noticed. Of course they 
wouldn’t want Dick’s brother — a thief’s brother — 
any more. If he ’d only let Dick rob them without 
trying to prevent it, he thought bitterly, they’d 
never have known. Joe hung his head in de- 
spair. 

The officer gave the boy a shake. 


A BURGLAR 189 

‘‘Do yez own up to what the lady says!^’ he 
asked Joe. 

“Yes — I’m his guide — was his guide,” he 
amended, in a voice he hardly knew for his own. 

Mrs. Manners sobbed into her lace handkerchief. 
“It can’t he! Why, he’s been in and out of the 
house every day — left alone with Roy — and I’ve 
trusted him — ^why, I’ve even shown him my dia- 
monds, and we talked about how much they were 
worth. ’ ’ 

“Did yez, now, mum?” asked the policeman, a 
hit contemptuously. “Well; what have ye got to 
say about yersilf, me bhoy?” 

Joe started. He remembered only too well, the 
day they had talked about those diamonds and 
their value — after he had found them. 

“Nawthin’,” he muttered, and looked sullenly 
away. 

‘ ‘ 0-oh ! Joe Darby ! Why don ’t you deny it, if 
you can!” wailed Mrs. Manners, rapidly working 
herself into hysterics. “Oh, he doesn’t deny it. 
To think that my boy — ^my poor, helpless, blind 
boy — ^has been under his influence for months!*^ 

She flung a protecting arm around Roy, who 
stood listening with a puzzled face. 

“Mother — ” he began, questioningly. But she 
silenced him. 

“Don’t say a word, my poor deluded boy. 
Norah — take Roy upstairs.” 

Roy flushed crimson. “I’m not a baby,” he 


190 BOY SCOUTS OP LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


protested. go up if you want me to/’ he 

said, with a dignity that a combination of an India 
shawl and pajamas failed to sustain. ‘ ‘ But what ’s 
all this about Joe? Is Joe here? And why is he 
here?” 

*^Will you go upstairs like a dear boy, and 
mother will tell you all about it later. Norah, go 
up with him and heat some water for peppermint. ’ ’ 

Norah took Roy’s arm with the air of a protect- 
ing army. ‘‘To think of the times I’ve made 
cocoa an’ lunches for the likes of him — the vil- 
lain!” she muttered indignantly, as she swept Roy 
out of the room. 

“Have yez missed anything?” 

‘ ‘ My jewel-box — four diamond rings. The very 
ones he knew about, they were. I had left the box 
on the bureau.” 

“Well, mum, I have the happiness to inforrm 
yez they are safe.” (7 saved them, thought Joe, 
with a pang.) “Would yez moind describing 
thim?” 

Mrs. Manners described them accurately, while 
the officer checked her description with the arti- 
cles themselves. 

“ ’Tis funny there’s only three here,” he said, 
when she had finished. “Now, where cud th’ 
fourth be?” 

Joe remembered again — three where four should 
have been. This time he could supply the fourth. 
With his free left hand he dove into his pocket and 


A BURGLAR 191 

presented it silently to the officer. Maybe then 
they’d believe — 

‘^Oh, Joe! I trusted you!” cried Mrs. Man- 
ners, reproachfully. That hurt more than any- 
thing that had happened, thought Joe, with a gulp. 

shall have to take them to the station-house, 
ma ’am, ’ ’ said the officer. ^ ^ An ’ we ’ll be throublin ’ 
yez later t’ stip round there t’ testify.” 

‘‘Must I? Oh, dear! Er — is there anything 
else I can do for you to-night?” 

The policeman almost smiled at the pointedness 
of her hint to go. 

“I’m a- waitin’ f’r th’ pathrol-wagon now.” 
Joe started desperately at that word. “And thin, 
young man,” concluded Officer Murphy, “I’ll be 
throublin’ yez t’ take a little ride in me motor- 
car. ’ ’ 

There was a moment’s silence, as they waited. 
Joe wished — how he wished — that his stupid 
tongue would at least let him protest his innocence. 
Why had he run, they would ask? To pursue the 
real thief. How had he happened to be on the 
spot at the time? That he could not answer; so 
he might as well keep still. He ’d do the same be- 
fore the magistrate, and let them prove what they 
would. His work with Roy was gone, so nothing 
mattered much now. 

Clang-clang-clangety-clang ! From the street a 
brazen clamor broke in upon them. 

Joe turned white. The patrol wagon had come 
— for him! 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN COUKT 

J OE passed through the events of the days 
that followed as if he were passing through 
a horrible nightmare. Time and again, he 
felt himself just on the point of waking ; time and 
again, he found himself centering all his will- 
power, as one does in a nightmare, on telling him- 
self it was only a dream, and that in a moment — 
only a moment — he would he able to shake himself 
out of it into the waking world. The stumbling 
down the Manners steps in the officer’s custody — 
the passing the gaping faces of the crowd that had 
collected (even as he had done in the past, to 
watch), the swift, short ride to the station-house — 
the gruff questions of the sergeant, that he an- 
swered mechanically, without knowing what he 
said — another ride to the Gerry Society, because 
Joe was not sixteen, and could not be locked up with 
grown-up prisoners — and the waiting there, till he 
learned that he was to be brought up before Judge 
White the next day — oh, yes, he told himself, it 
was all a dream — it had to be a dream. At the 
last moment, he would wake. He knew he would. 
But even in his nightmare, Joe’s thoughts would 

192 


IN COURT 


193 


not keep idle. If it wasn’t a dream, hadn’t he 
bungled things beautifully! He couldn’t have 
made them come out worse if he had been deliber- 
ately trying. He had not only failed to prevent 
the robbery, but he had got himself taken up as the 
thief, and let Dick escape to Foley. He had lost — 
reputation, pal, job, money — and the loss of the 
money would be a bitter blow to Sis. Why, Joe 
didn’t know whether he’d ever see Sis again. 
Suppose his father believed Joe guilty — it was 
quite possible. Suppose he turned him out of the 
house — as he would have deserved if he had been 
guilty? 

Why hadn’t he told his father? His father had 
been sympathetic. He knew of Dick’s greed for 
those diamonds; he had even warned Joe about it. 
He would have helped Joe plan. And his plans, 
whatever they might have been, surely couldn’t 
have come out any more disastrously than Joe’s 
own ! 

But then, there was no use regretting. If it 
proved not to be a dream — if Joe didnH wake up 
in bed at home and laugh at the whole atfair — then 
he had to plan for the future. Since all was lost, 
Joe decided on the grim policy of just keeping 
still, letting them prove what they could or would. 
He was in the mess now — and it was a mess, Joe 
confessed — ^well, then, he’d see it through. He’d 
serve his sentence, whatever it was ; he ’d never go 
back home — ^why should he? No, he’d go ’way off 


194 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 

somewhere, and earn a fortune. Perhaps he^d 
send lots of money back to Sis, and she ’d guess who 
sent it! But first, before he went — wouldnH he 
lay into Dick and give him what he deserved ! 

So Joe met the policeman who came to conduct 
him to the courtroom, even cheerfully. There was 
just so much to go through before he saw the end 
of the business ; and every bit over made so much 
less to come. 

Joe was led into a room that somehow did not 
have the grim and forbidding appearance that J oe 
associated with a court-room. Instead, it seemed 
to have a warm and friendly and kindly welcome 
— if a room may be said to give a welcome. Per- 
haps it was the soothing dim glow from the shaded 
lights ; perhaps it was the warm brown of the pol- 
ished oak that was everywhere — desks and seats 
and even floor. 

Joe cast a quick look around him. One side of 
the room was taken up by three rows of high- 
backed seats for onlookers; but no one occupied 
them, Joe was thankful to notice. On the next 
side was a long table, where several clerks sat at- 
tending to their duties without the least attention 
to him. The third side was occupied by the high 
Judge’s desk, before which he was led. And at 
his side, before the desk, stood Mrs. Manners and 
Roy, the officer who arrested him, and — Joe’s 
heart gave a thump — his father! Why, he’d lose 
a day’s pay for this, thought Joe. Why couldn’t 


IN COUKT 195 

they have let him alone? And he’d surely take it 
out of Joe later. 

Behind the desk sat the Judge, in his black robe. 
Just now he was turning to look at a yellow slip 
of paper that an officer brought in; and Joe stole 
a long look at him. For the first time — without 
any reason, and much to his surprise — the boy 
felt a thrill of hope. This man looked as if he 
might understand. 

He had a square face, kindly hut firm. He 
wouldn’t stand any nonsense, Joe felt; but he 
couldn’t help thinking a queer thought that fol- 
lowed; ‘‘If he has any boys, bet he’s the jolliest 
kind of pal to them in all their fun ! ” Joe couldn ’t 
help looking at him again. He just liked to. 

But suddenly the Judge turned as if he guessed. 
He met Joe’s eyes with a look that was both 
kindly and keen. Then he referred to a paper he 
held in his hand. “You are Joe Darby?” he 
asked; and his voice was as kindly-keen as his 
eyes. 

“Yes, sir,” said Joe. 

Then he asked Joe his age, and where he was 
in school. School, everywhere he went! 

‘ ‘ Now, officer, you arrested this boy ? ’ ’ The po- 
liceman assented. “Tell us the whole story.” 

The officer stepped up onto a small platform be- 
side the Judge’s desk. Behind it Joe noticed a 
stenographer, ready to take notes. 

The officer was sworn; then he sat down in the 


196 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


chair in front of the stenographer's desk and 
began. 

He was standing at the southeast corner of 
Such-and-Such Streets, at about one o^clock. He 
was looking toward the west, watching a sus- 
picious character on the next block. For that rea- 
son he was keeping out of sight. Suddenly he 
heard a policeman’s whistle, and footsteps of 
some one running, coming from the eastward, and, 
turning, he saw two people running. They were 
running towards the west, and turned the corner 
and went north. He ran after them and caught 
one. It was this boy. He had a jewel-case in his 
hands when he caught him. Then he took him 
back in the direction from which he had come, and 
found several people gathered in front of this 
lady’s house. He learned afterwards that she had 
blown the whistle. He asked another officer, whom 
he found there, and learned there had been a burg- 
lary. He had gone in, with the boy, and the lady 
had at once identified the boy as one who had been 
the guide to her boy who was blind, and who had 
known about the lay of the house and about her 
diamonds. She had identified the jewels as hers. 
Then he took the boy to the station-house. 

‘‘You saw two people running?” asked the 
Judge. 

“Yes, your honor.” 

“Were they running together, or one behind the 
other?” 


IN COUET 197 

‘ ^ One behind the other. The boy was last. The 
other feller was at least ten feet ahead. 

“What was this person likeT’ 

“Well, I didn’t see him clearly; but I’d say 
positively he was an older chap than this one — 
quite a man grown. He disappeared all of a sud- 
den, while I was catching this one. This chap 
might have got away, too, for they had a good 
start of me, but he stopped to pick up something 
he dropped.” 

“You saw him drop something?” 

“Well, no, sir. I couldn’t have seen it at that 
distance; but twice he stopped to pick up some- 
thing; the last time he fumbled around about it 
considerable, too. Then I came up to him, and 
found the jewel-case, with three rings, right in his 
hands. There was a ring missing, I found later 
at the lady’s house; but this boy had it in his 
pocket. ’ ’ 

“You searched him for it?” 

“No, your honor, he pulled it out himself.” 

“Why, that’s very queer. . . . Then the only 
proof that he committed the robbery is the fact 
that he was running, that you found the jewels in 
his hand when you caught him; that the jewels 
had been stolen; and that the lady identified him 
as a boy who .had been in the house a good deal, 
and who knew about the jewels. Purely circum- 
stantial evidence?” 

“Yes, your honor.” 


198 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


‘‘Now, Joe, what have you to say to this?’^ 
The magistrate turned to Joe, much to the lad^s 
surprise. He didnT think he’d have a chance to 
say anything. 

“NawthinV’ muttered Joe. 

“Have you anything to add to what the officer 
saysT’ 

“No, sir.” 

“He’s told it just as it was!” 

“Ye-es.” Joe simply couldn’t help saying it 
slowly. At that moment he felt that he wanted 
to tell the judge all about it. But then, it wouldn’t 
do any good. Let them prove what they wanted 
to; it didn’t matter. 

“Why did you hesitate just then!” asked the 
judge. 

Joe shrugged his shoulders, recklessly. 

“This officer saw you running, behind another 
person!” 

“Yes, sir, I was.” 

‘ ‘ Where were you running from ! ’ ’ 

“Where he says,” muttered Joe, gruffly. 

“Do you mean from Mrs. Manners’ house, or 
simply from the direction he saw you ! ’ ’ 

“From that direction.” 

‘‘Not from Mrs. Manners’ house!” 

“No, sir. ’ ’ That had slipped out before he real- 
ized it. He hadn’t meant to bring on a discussion 
as to whether he had committed the robbery. 
That, he had felt till now, was as good as settled. 


IN COUET 


199 


‘‘Where had you started to run!’^ 

J oe was silent. The Judge looked at him a mo- 
ment, then began again with just as kind a voice 
as if Joe hadnT defied him. 

“Who was this other person T’ 

Joe was silent. 

“You knew him, then?’’ 

Joe flushed. They’d get the truth out of him 
in spite of him. Much good it would do him — as 
far as Eoy and Sis’s money were concerned. 
What a lot of bother over nothing! But Joe 
nodded. 

“Why were you running after him?” 

J oe was again silent. 

“Which one of you dropped the things that you 
picked up?” 

Joe was so startled at the keenness of this ques- 
tion that he looked at the Judge in sheer amaze- 
ment. 

“You, or the other fellow?” 

‘ ‘ The — other — feller — ” 

Here Joe fairly gasped at the things he had re- 
vealed without meaning to. Now he hardened his 
heart; of course the Judge was acting soft and 
sympathetic to get him to tell things. As he 
paused just here to think a minute, Joe felt con- 
firmed in his opinion. Wasn’t he planning, right 
now? The next minute he was thankful, however, 
to have Mrs. Manners called to testify. Joe 
watched her curiously. Would she throw him 


200 BOY SCOUTS OP LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


over, scornfully, as she ’d cast away an old glove ? 
Joe listened. 

Yes, this boy had been employed by her as guide 
for her blind son, Roy. On whose recommenda- 
tion? On that of the principal of his school and 
his teacher, she answered. (Bet she hated to tell 
that, thought Joe, as the Judge raised his brows 
and apparently made a mental note of that fact.) 
He had come freely into her home, knew the loca- 
tion of the rooms. Ye^ she admitted with ap- 
parent reluctance (hypocrite, thought Joe) she 
knew he had noticed her rings. They had talked 
about them once, and how much they were worth. 
Here, much to Joe’s surprise, she volunteered the 
whole story of how J oe had found her rings when 
she had carelessly left them. Again the Judge 
raised his eyebrows. For the first time Joe be- 
gan to feel a stirring curiosity as to how it would 
come out, after all; till that moment he had 
felt certain. How could they, help making him 
gnilty? 

Now the Judge turned his attention to Roy. 

‘‘This is your son, Roy, who is blind?” he asked, 
abruptly. She assented; at which the Judge ad- 
dressed himself to Roy. 

“Well, you’re a Scout, aren’t you? Second- 
class. In the Lighthouse Troop ? ’ ’ 

Roy assented joyfully. 

“Is your guide here a Scout, too?” 

“No, sir,” answered Joe, eagerly. “But Roy 


IN COURT 201 

loaned me the Handbook, and my father said I 
might be one, just a little while before — ’’ 

‘‘Roy, how long has Joe been your guide 
‘ ‘ Since about four weeks after school opened. ’ ’ 
“What sort of a guide was he — on your honor 
as a Scout 

Roy’s face glowed with earnestness. 

“He was the finest guide I ever had,” Roy 
choked over something for an instant. “He was 
always there, and always ready, and always cheer- 
ful. Judge, I suppose my opinion isn’t worth 
anything, because I can’t see — ^but I’ve got to know 
Joe pretty well, and I — I just know he didn’t do 
it. I know he — he couldnH have done it! Mother 
told you about that time J oe found those old rings. 
If he was that sort, why didn’t he take them then? 
Isn’t that good proof!” 

“But what was Joe doing, then, this night!” 
asked the Judge. Joe felt vindicated in his opin- 
ion. Hadn’t the Judge just made up his mind 
beforehand! Didn’t that question show it! 

Roy flushed with mingled earnestness and con- 
fusion. “I haven’t the least idea — and of course 
it looks bad — to any one who didn’t know Joe.” 
He squared his shoulders. “But in spite of all 
that, I’d say Joe didnH do ilV’ 

The Judge smiled — pityingly, Joe thought. 
Then he turned to Joe again. 

“How much do you earn as Roy’s guide!” the 
Judge asked Joe. 


202 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


dollar a week, sir.’^ 

‘^What do you do with the money U’ 

‘‘Give it to my father.’^ 

Mr. Darby made an eager gesture. “No, 
Judge, ’scuse me f’r interruptin’, but that ain’t 
quite right. He does give it to me, but it’s to put 
with the money I’m savin’ to send my little 
crippled girl to the country. I didn’t ask him to, 
neither. He up and offered.” 

“That right, Joe?” asked the Judge. And Joe 
nodded. 

The Judge played with the paper in his hand for 
a fraction of a minute. “Go on,” he said at last 
to Mrs. Manners. 

Accordingly, Mrs. Manners told the rest of her 
story, ending with the incident of the fourth ring, 
the night of the robbery. The Judge turned to 
Joe. 

“This fourth ring was in your pocket?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How did it get there? Did you put it there 
yourself?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“When?” 

Joe was silent. 

“Was it one of those things that the officer 
speaks of as your picking up as you ran?” 

J oe was so startled at the keen question that he 
answered “Yes, sir,” involuntarily. 

“Had you dropped it?” 


IN COUET 203 

‘‘No, sir.’^ Again Joe answered in spite of 
himself. 

“Why, who did, then?’’ 

But now Joe was silent. 

“There’s something here we haven’t got at,” 
said Judge White, decidedly, with a good deal of 
impatience. “I’d like to find out about this sec- 
ond person who ran away. For all that the evi- 
dence shows, Joe might have been chasing the 
real thief in order to capture him.” 

This was such a good guess that Joe looked up, 
startled. The Judge met his eyes with a look that 
was questioning, but Joe looked down again. 

“Mrs. Manners, have you any suspicion as to 
any one else who might have known about the 
stones, and who might have been the thief?” 

“Any one else? No; I only wish I did!” 

That sounded fine, thought Joe ; but why was she 
there testifying against him if she didn’t wish to 
prove him guilty? What hypocrites everybody 
was, he thought bitterly. 

“Mr. Darby; please take the stand.” 

Mr. Darby did so, without a look at J oe. 

“What is your business?” 

“Laborer; with the Interurban Construction 
Company. This is the first day I’ve missed 
with them for the ten years I’ve been with 
them. ’ ’ 

<‘Er — this boy of yours, Joe, was arrested by 
the oflScer at about one o’clock in the morning. 


204 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


How did he happen to be allowed out on the streets 
so late at night U’ 

“I don^t know, your honor. 

What do you mean? Didn’t you know he was 
out?” 

^‘No, your honor. He had went to bed early — 
about eight, I think.” 

‘‘That was earlier than usual? Why did he do 
so?” 

“Well, Judge, I guess ’twas because I’d gi’n him 
a good thrashin’.” 

“What was that for?” 

“I — I just don’t rightly know, now I stop to 
think it out ; but he sorter made me mad. ’ ’ 

“But the officer arrested him at one o’clock, 
several miles from his home. How do you ac- 
count for that?” 

“Dunno, sir,” answered Mr. Darby, helplessly. 

“What about it, Joe?” asked the Judge, kindly. 

“Oh, I got up again,” Joe answered wearily. 

“When?” 

“After they were all asleep.” 

“Then you didn’t go to sleep at all?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Was it because you knew you were going out 
that night, after the others had gone to sleep and 
wouldn’t hear?” 

Joe nodded. 

“What were you going out for?” 


IN COURT 


205 


No answer. 

‘‘To rob Mrs. Manners 

“No, sir,’^ Joe answered vehemently. 

“What for, thenU’ 

The Judge waited a moment for Joe’s reply; 
then turned to Mr. Darby. “Tell all you can re- 
member of your going to bed that night.” 

“Joe, here, went first of all. Then the little 
girls. Then my wife put little Johnny to bed — 
he has a crib in Joe’s room. Joe wuz awake then, 
f ’r she spoke to ’im. Then wife and I, we sat in 
the kitchen and talked.” 

“Alone!” 

“No, sir. Dick was there, too.” 

At Dick’s name, Joe couldn’t suppress a start 
and a nervous glance at the Judge. He found 
Judge Wliite was watching him intently. 

“Who is Dick?” he asked Mr. Darby. 

“My oldest boy.” 

“What does he do!” 

“Dick! Dick don’t work,” snorted Mr. Darby, 
scornfully. 

“How old is he!” 

‘ ‘ Twenty-one. ’ ’ 

“How does he get his living! Twenty-one, and 
doesn ’t work ! Does he live on you ! ’ ’ Mr. Darby 
nodded. “But where does he get money for his 
own little expenses. Do you give it to him!” 

“He makes some, himself, sometimes. I don’t 


206 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


know how.’^ Mr. Darby shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well, go on. What was Dick doing while you 
were talking with your wife in the kitchen ? ’ ’ 

“He was looking at a book.’^ 

“What kind of a book!’’ 

“A sort of a catalog.” 

“Catalog of what!” 

“A jeweler’s catalog.” 

“Oh; so he’s interested in jewelry, is he!” 

“He’s always been fond of it.” 

“Doesn’t own much!” 

“Oh, no, your honor.” 

“Doesn’t have any money to buy it with, ac- 
cording to your account!” 

‘ ‘ He might have. Sometimes he has money. I 
think he gambles.” 

“Go on. When did you and Mrs. Darby re- 
tire!” 

“ J6st as th’ clock struck ten. I wuz tired, an’ 
I haf to get up early.” 

“Then you left Dick in the kitchen, looking over 
the catalog!” 

‘ ‘ But he went to bed pretty soon after. I called 
to him, an’ he came before I went to sleep. He 
sleeps in the room with J oe, and ours is next. So 
I heard.” 

“Joe, did you hear Dick go to bed!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Did he know you were awake!” 

^ ‘ Guess not ! ” Joe grinned. 


207 


IN COURT 

‘‘You didn’t want him to know, did you?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Why not?” 

But J oe was silent again. 

“I want this Dick called as a witness. Where 
is he?” 

“He hain’t been home — I ain’t laid eyes on him 
— sence that night.” 

“What!” exclaimed the Judge. “What steps 
have you taken to locate him?” 

“None. He’s of age. He’s often away like 
that for a week.” 

‘ ‘ Do you know where he goes ? ’ ’ 

“No, sir, nor I don’t care. He’s given me 
enough trouble. I don’t care what becomes of 
him. ’ ’ 

The Judge pondered a moment. “ WTiat do you 
mean when you say he’s given you trouble? Was 
he bad as a boy?” 

“Bad! As bad as a bad egg!” 

‘ ‘ When did you see him last ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That night was the last time I ever seen him. ’ ’ 

“Yo'u didn’t see him the next morning?” Mr. 
Darby shook his head. ‘ ‘ Then he must have gone 
away before you got up. What time did you get 
up that morning ? ’ ’ 

“Five o’clock. When I went through their 
room, both boys was gone. ’ ’ 

The Judge stopped his questions for a moment, 
while he summoned a court officer, wrote some- 


208 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


thing on a piece of paper, and gave it to the officer, 
want that record,’^ Joe heard him say. 

Then the Judge turned to Joe. What a lot of 
patience it took to be a Judge, Joe was thinking; 
and what a head, to carry all the things that dif- 
ferent people said, and sift them out. Joe almost 
believed this Judge would get to the bottom of 
things in spite of him. He almost wished he 
would. Of course, Eoy’s mother would still ob- 
ject to having a thief’s brother as guide for her 
precious Eoy; but it would prove Eoy was right 
in his defense of Joe. After all, it would be better 
not to be proved a thief: for his father’s sake — 
for Sis ! J oe answered the Judge ’s next questions 
almost willingly. 

‘‘Hid Hick get up and go out before you did, that 
night, or after?” was the staggering question of 
this astute judge. 

Joe looked down. Then he straightened up as 
if a load were lifted from his shoulders. “Be- 
fore,” he answered. 

“He dressed very quietly, I suppose, so as not 
to wake you?” 

“Guess he did!” 

“What did he do then, after he had dressed?” 

“Went out.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I heard him unbolt the kitchen door, and then 
close it.” 

“Then you dressed?” 


IN COUET 


209 


^^Yes, sir.’’ 

‘^Immediately after?’’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Was he in sight when you went out into the 
street?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Where did you think he was going?” 

Joe was silent. 

“Did you know?” 

Joe looked up into the Judge’s eyes. “I — 
knew,” he said, taking a deep breath. 

“Tell us what you knew,” continued the Judge, 
kindly. But Joe was silent again. He couldn’t 
bring himself to “peach on Dick,” he thought. 

“Did Dick know you knew where he was go- 
ing?” Joe shook his head. “Where did you go 
then?” 

Joe looked down, without speaking. 

“Did you then go to the vicinity of Roy’s 
home ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“What for?” 

Joe kept his eyes down and made no answer. 

“To rob Mrs. Manners?” 

Now Joe looked up, quickly. “No, sir,” he 
answered, earnestly. 

“But why should you go there, then? To meet 
Dick?” 

Joe heaved a sigh. He felt his eyes begin to 
smart as if tears were coming. Why — Why did 


210 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


they want to worry one poor boy like that? Wliy 
couldn’t they ‘^put him away” without all that 
bother to themselves, and torment to Joe. So 
many against one ! He fumbled in his pocket for 
his handkerchief. 

Mr. Darby leaned forward in the witness chair. 
“Judge,” he said, in a voice that was hoarse with 
earnestness, “I don’t believe my Joe there ever 
done it. Judge, he ’s a good boy — he goes to school 
steady, and brings home fine reports; then after 
school he works all afternoon with this blind feller, 
an’ then comes home, and studies after supper 
till bedtime. He gives all the money he makes 
to Sis. Sis thinks the world o’ Joe, an’ he does 
o’ Sis. I dunno what she’d do if Joe got took off. 
She’s most sick now, worryin’ about him. Judge 
— he ’s a good boy — never want a better ! ’ ’ 

And Joe? Joe felt as if the world were turning 
topsy-turvy. Here was his father pleading ve- 
hemently for him — ^pleading that he was a good 
boy! If he’d only said so to Joe — if he’d only 
shown he thought so, when Joe was struggling all 
by himself — 

As if that were not enough, Mr. Darby went on, 

“An’ I’ve a notion. Judge, Joe here knew Dick 
was goin’ to — do it, an’ went t’ stop him. Warn’t 
that so, Joe!” 

Joe looked down. 

“An’ I’ve a notion that wuz what wuz troublin’ 


IN COUET 


211 


Joe the night I thrashed him f bein’ so mumpin’. 
Warn’t that so, too, Joe?” 

At this point the officer whom the Judge had 
sent on an errand came back with the slip of paper. 
The Judge read it; then his eyebrows went higher 
than they had at anything that had come out in 
the trial. 

‘‘I’m going to tell you both something you don’t 
know. . . . Dick Darby was arrested day before 
yesterday for breaking into a store; and he has 
confessed to this robbery of Mrs. Manners’ house. 
So you can be as frank as you please, Joe, without 
feeling that you are betraying your brother Dick 
— though that’s a foolish feeling about a law- 
breaker. ’ ’ 

Joe heaved a big sigh of relief, and clenched his 
hands. The whole room was whirling round. He 
hadn't done it, and they all knew now. He wasn't 
a thief. This time the tears came as far as his 
eyes. He couldn’t look at his father, or the smil- 
ing Judge, or even the excited Mrs. Manners. He 
felt he had never known such utter happiness as 
the happiness of that moment. And the next min- 
ute he was telling the whole story, without hesita- 
tion, with his father throwing in a corroborative 
word now and then. 

But the Judge had not quite finished. 

“Well, eJoe, I^m glad for your sake that things 
came out as they did. But I don’t think you’ve 


212 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


been punished any too severely for the fool things 
youVe done.’^ 

Joe stared at the Judge in amazement. When 
he met his stem eyes, he even felt uneasy. The 
Judge’s reverberating voice, as he leaned forward 
to address Joe, made Joe almost afraid. He was 
glad he wasn’t guilty, to have to meet those pierc- 
ing eyes and hear that stern address. For the 
Judge did not spare him. 

“I wonder if you’ve realized just how foolish 
you have been. Why didn’t you tell your father 
when you learned what Dick was planning? 
Wasn’t it his right to know? What right had you 
to keep it from him? And what in the world 
possessed you to try to stop Dick alone? That 
wasn’t your job. That was for the officer or 
the detective to do. That’s what they’re for. 
What made you think you could do what we have 
to spend a lot of time training a real detective 
to do? You found out by experience that it was 
too big a job for you, didn’t you; you made a 
pretty big mess out of things, didn’t you? Your 
foolishness cost Mrs. Manners, and Roy, and your 
father a lot of worry and trouble. People don’t 
think much of other people who tackle jobs that 
are too big for them, because they don’t know 
enough to know it.” 

It wasn’t his words so much as his manner, that 
made Joe feel small enough to sink through a crack 
in the floor, and foolish enough to wish he could 


IN COURT 


213 


do it. Joe had faced his father’s violent anger 
more than once; but Mr. Darby had never made 
him feel the way this Judge did, with his piercing 
blue eyes and his earnest voice. Yet in spite of its 
accusing, it was at bottom friendly; so it didn’t 
make Joe rebellious, only ashamed enough to drop 
through the floor. But he went on : 

‘‘That’s foolishness the first — not trusting your 
father ; not telling him what was his right to know ; 
and thinking you could do a detective’s work in 
stopping Dick. You did something still worse — 
worse than mere foolishness. What in the wide 
world made you take upon yourself the crime Dick 
committed, and let yourself be proved guilty of 
it? Do you know, young man, that things looked 
pretty bad for you, one while? That you pretty 
nearly did get proved guilty of it ? ” 

Here Joe couldn’t help looking up. Goodness 
knows, he thought, I didn’t do it because I wanted 
to — 

The Judge understood his look perfectly. “Oh, 
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it 
was a splendid piece of heroic self-sacrifice. 
You’re thinking it was a piece of loyalty to 
your brother. Now, loyalty is a splendid thing, 
Joe; we need every atom of it that we can 
get, in a country like this. Yes, loyalty is splen- 
did; but loyalty to the wrong thing isn’t splen- 
did; it’s merely foolish. I want you to think 
about this. You were being loyal to your brother, 


214 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


— yes. But that brother was himself being dis- 
loyal — ^to you, to his father, to the law of the 
land. There is more than one thing that we 
all have to be loyal to, Joe; our family, our re- 
ligion, our country. Suppose sometime we’re 
placed as you were, so that being loyal to one 
means disloyal to another? WeVe got to choose, 
then. Or, put it another way : suppose being loyal 
to Dick consists in helping Dick be disloyal to 
something bigger — to the laws of his country — to 
the right? Is it really being loyal to him to help 
him be disloyal to something bigger? You were 
shielding Dick in being disloyal to his country; 
in doing it you were no better than he. You were 
helping a law-breaker — and by just so much you 
were breaking the law yourself: no real Scout 
would do that! You’re a fine, loyal lad, Joe; and 
by just so much you’ve got to keep that loyalty 
untarnished.” 

J oe fairly slunk out of court when the case was 
concluded. He noticed Mrs. Manners and Eoy 
lingered as if to speak to him on the way out ; but 
J oe kept on the other side of his father, and Mr. 
Darby was in a hurry to get back to work. So 
they emerged into the street without exchanging 
a word. Joe wanted it that way. How could he 
ever face any one who had heard him receive such 
a thorough ‘‘dressing-down” as the Judge had 
given him? 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


AT WOKK 

J OE and his father walked out of the white 
building together, and turned towards 
home. How bright the sunshine seemed, 
and how clear the air was! Joe didn’t want to 
talk; and they went along in silence. He tingled 
with shame at the ‘^talking-to” the Judge had 
given him. But, above all, he felt shy of this new- 
found father of his, who had defended him so 
lustily; and he was almost afraid this state of 
atfairs would not last. It was too good to last. 
None of Joe’s good-fortunes ever lasted. Yet 
there was one, he felt, that would; for he felt he 
could never again be afraid of his father. Four 
months ago, that was almost the only feeling that 
father inspired. 

A big clock boomed above their heads. Joe 
started. 

“Why, you’ve had to stay away from work — ” 
he exclaimed. 

“I should worry,” responded Mr. Darby, cheer- 
fully. “I had somethin’ more important to do, 
didn’t I?” 

Joe dropped his eyes. 

215 


216 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


^‘S’pose you’ll be home early this afternoon 
said Mr. Darby, plunging into the very topic they 
both were thinking about. 

Joe was so glad his father had mentioned it! 
He wanted to talk certain things over with him. 

^'Yes. S’pose so. That's done with,” an- 
swered Joe. ‘ H care more about Sis — ’ ’ he added. 

‘‘Yes. She’s added up that money more’n a 
million times already. It would just have made 
enough to send her away.” 

“Dad,” began Joe — it was the first time in his 
life he had ever called him by that name — “I don’t 
care about school, now. I want to work. You 
need me — and Sis needn’t lose her vacation. 
Don’t they need a boy where you are?” 

“Dunno but they do. Want to begin to-mor- 
row?” 

“Yes, to-day,” answered Joe, eagerly. 

“I’m a-goin’ back for the rest of the day. I’ll 
speak to Red Mike, the boss, and then ter-morrer 
ye can go with me. Tell y’r ma t’ git out that 
brown shirt o’ mine that shrunk; and there’s an 
extra pair of overalls. Guess you c’n fill ’em.” 

Joe’s heart swelled. He was going to be a real 
workman, wear his father’s workman’s clothes — 
rough shirt and overalls — and carry a tin dinner- 
pail. But best of all, he was going to escape from 
the tangled snarl he had made of affairs, and be- 
gin afresh amid new surroundings. 

Joe had his hands full that afternoon telling his 


AT WORK 


217 


mother, Sis, and the little girls all that had hap- 
pened since he shut the door on himself at the be- 
ginning of his great adventure. How differently 
it had come out from what he expected. 

But even with their innumerable questions time 
dragged heavily. He was so anxious to begin 
work. It was such a long wait from noon-time 
till half-past five, when Mr. Darby would come 
home. 

Part of the time was taken up in trying on the 
shirt and overalls, and posing before the mirror. 
Joe thrust up the brown sleeves and clenched his 
hand, to admire his muscles. Then his clothes 
were laid carefully on a chair in his room, ready 
for morning. 

Joe waited anxiously for his father’s return. 
Suppose, after all, there was no place for him? 

‘‘Did you ask — do they want me?” he de- 
manded, before Mr. Darby had closed the door. 

“Thought mebbe ye’d changed your mind by 
this time,” teased Mr. Darby. “Yes. Begin to- 
morrer. ’ ’ 

There was no sound sweeter to Joe’s ears than 
the alarm-clock’s noisy din the next morning; and 
no day seemed quite so pleasant, as when J oe and 
his father went forth, dinner-pails in hand, to 
work. 

“There’s Red Mike, the boss,” pointed out Mr. 
Darby, as they joined a group of other overalled 
workmen, waiting for the seven o’clock whistle. 


218 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


Joe saw a six-foot, red-faced, red-haired giant, 
with the biggest arms Joe ever saw, standing eas- 
ily on a narrow girder, and shouting directions in 
a tremendous voice to somebody half a block away. 
J oe watched him, fascinated, for the next ten min- 
utes, as he stood, the master of all this confusion, 
roaring orders, seeing all ways at once, hearing a 
dozen questions at a time, and taking short cuts 
over the tangle of foundation stones and girders 
that fairly took Joe’s breath away. Would he 
ever learn to move easily over a five-inch path with 
a drop of twenty feet below, carrying a ten-foot 
timber on his shoulder? 

Suddenly Bed Mike moved over near them. 

‘‘Here’s my boy I spoke to you about,” began 
Mr. Darby. 

“Hey? Oh, all right.” Bed Mike gave Joe 
one glance. “He’s a good husky chap, f ’r a lad. 
I’ll put him helper f ’r ould Jim, and runnin’ er- 
rands f’r me. Here’s a helper f’r yez, Jim,” he 
roared, to some one beyond the confusion. 
‘ ‘ What ’s y ’r name, bhoy ? ’ ’ 

“Joe, sir.” Joe liked the direct, business-like 
way these men had of coming to the point of things 
at once. 

“Well, Joe, you come wid me.” 

A teamster interrupted Bed Mike by backing his 
wagon up to the wrong place. Mike was off like 
a shot. Joe hadn’t quite located Old Jim, whose 
helper he was to be. He asked the nearest man. 


AT WORK 


219 


‘‘D’ye see that engine over there?” The man 
pointed across a tangle of emptiness, crossed by 
lines of masonry and plank pathways crisscrossed 
here and there. “He’s thot mon with the — ” 

Red Mike suddenly appeared at Joe’s side. 
“Now, Joe, this way. Come wid me.” And he 
started across the single plank that led across a 
ten-foot drop below. 

Joe hesitated just one second. Red Mike evi^ 
dently expected him to follow. If Mike and all 
the rest of the men could cross those narrow paths 
with unconcern — so would he! And jiminy, he 
thought as he gained Red Mike’s side a moment 
later — Does everything that’s hard turn easy if 
you only tackle it? 

Red Mike’s blue eyes were smiling. “You’ll 
do, ’ ’ he said, shortly. ‘ ‘ That ’s Jim, with the gray 
hair.” 

Did he know Joe had hesitated, even though for 
an instant; for he seemed to see everything with 
those keen blue eyes. Could he have seen it with 
the back of his head, chuckled Joe? 

Jim was a white-haired old man whose duty was 
to feed the firebox of the donkey-engine used for 
hoisting. He nodded greetings. He had been a 
faithful employee for many years, and now he was 
bent and old, he was given easy jobs and a helper 
to do the work. 

“You’re the eighth boy that’s wanted the job, 
and the first he’s taken,” said Old Jim. “Thot 


220 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


was a little test he puts ’em through, an’ every 
one flummoxed.” 

‘‘What? Follerin’ him over?” asked Joe. He 
thought he had got away from tests when he left 
school. 

Old Jim nodded. “Ye see, we can’t have men 
in this construction work that’s shaky becase 
there’s a hole under ’em.” 

Now Joe had been shaky — was still, he con- 
fessed to himself, as Old Jim unconcernedly sent 
him across another perilous path to get another 
shovel. But now he’d die rather than acknowl- 
edge it. He didn’t know that both Red Mike and 
Old Jim cpuld see that he had this beginner’s feel- 
ing, knew it would wear otf, and thought the better 
of him for putting it down. Indeed, they both 
tried to help him by sending him into as many 
ticklish places as they could. And when Red Mike 
noticed later that Joe forced himself to take the 
shakiest ways, on purpose, times when he could 
have traveled a secure one without criticism, it 
scored a point in his favor in Red Mike’s esti- 
mation. 

But later in the day he scored a point that he 
knew about, and that made him ready to stand on 
his head for Red Mike ever after. And it was 
through the very last person that would have 
chosen to do Joe a good turn : no less than — Foley ! 

During the day Red Mike was continually send- 
ing Joe to drive away the children and boys that 


AT WORK 


221 


persisted in hanging about, much to their peril 
and much to the hindrance of the workmen. Joe 
liked this best of anything he had to do. 

‘ ‘Go chase them kids,’ ^ Mike would shout to Joe ; 
and Joe would start otf with alacrity. 

Mike laughed to himself at the boy. For Joe 
had already begun, unconsciously, to imitate 
Mike’s own jerky swing of the arm as he waved 
them away, and Mike’s tone of voice as he ordered 
them off. 

“That’s right. Keep y’r eyes skinned on that 
pile there,” hade Red Mike. “The kids’ll steal 
half of it if we don’t watch ’em. Sell it to the 
junk-men f ’r metal.” 

So Joe “kept his eye skinned for the kids,” as 
well as for the hungry red mouth of the engine 
he had to keep fed, and the supply of coal that 
must not be allowed to get too low. 

Soon after Joe saw three big fellows — about 
Dick’s age — hanging about that attractive pile of 
metal. One of them looked like — yes, it was — no 
— yes, Foley ! Joe and Mike were both watchful. 
Mike happened to be near Joe at that time, and 
Joe looked up from his work in expectation of an 
order to drive them away. 

“Those big chaps know what they’re after. 
They’ve been hanging round before. You don’t 
want to tackle them, do ye!” Mike laughed at 
Joe’s evident eagerness. 

“Sure,” answered Joe, starting towards the pile 


222 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


for the tenth time that morning. Mike chuckled 
to himself. ’Twould do that kid good to tackle 
something that was too much for him, he thought. 

Within twenty feet of him Joe caught Foley’s 
eye. Foley started — stared — then said something 
to his mates, and all three sheered off and began 
to walk slowly away as if they hadn’t seen Joe. 

Joe returned. Red Mike stared with down- 
dropped jaw. ‘‘Sure, what did ye say to thim?” 
he inquired in surprise. 

“I didn’t say anything,” answered Joe. 

“Just looked at ’em, heyf” Mike chuckled. 
“Bhoy, ye be careful ye don’t happen t’ look at 
me thot way, f’r I’m nayded here, and ye might 
make me sneak away in the same fashion. ’ ’ 

Beneath his brown shirt Joe’s heart was thump- 
ing. Red Mike approved of him — had as much as 
said so. 

Red Mike showed a further interest in Joe that 
noontime, when the men sat about eating their 
luncheons. As the youngest member of the gang, 
Joe was laden with four tin pails and as many ten- 
cent pieces, and was just starting away to the near- 
est cafe when Red Mike came up. 

“Where ye goin’f ” he demanded, angrily. 

Joe thought it was obvious; but told him. 

“Put thim cans down,” commanded Red Mike. 
Something had made him very angry. In a second 
Joe learned what it was. 

“Now, thin, bhoys, see here! No gang o’ 


AT WORK 


223 


mine^ll iver sind a Md into a gin-mill f^r suds f’r 
them. Get that? Ye’ll answer f’r it t’ me!^^ 
And Mike was so angry that he brandished his 
clenched fist. 

Joe felt foolish. So he was only a kid to Red 
Mike. He was also disappointed. He had, fool- 
ishly enough, thought how manly it would feel to 
push through those swinging half-doors, walk up 
to the polished bar, and put his foot on the shining 
brass rail as he waited his order. Only a kid — 
to be taken care of ! But after all, it showed Red 
Mike was thinking of him ; and not only thinking, 
but willing to take a moment from his busy day 
for his sake. To Joe’s intense surprise, Mr. 
Darby, joining the group, added his emphatic, 

<<Y’r right, Mike.” 

When Joe looked at his father questioningly he 
said, in a low aside to Joe, 

‘ ‘ Dick began that way. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh!” said Joe, comprehending. And he 
wished now there was some way he could thank 
Red Mike for his interest. But all he could do 
was to work lustily all afternoon, and answer Red 
Mike’s summons with lightning speed. 

“Y’r just out o’ school, ain’t ye?” came Red 
Mike’s voice at his elbow, when Joe, toiling vig- 
orously, thought he was a hundred feet away. 
Joe started. School, again, he thought. 

“Yes, sir,” he answered, dispiritedly. 

“Where was ye in school?” 


224 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


— second term in the high school.’^ 

‘‘Come wid me. I want ye to check a list.^^ 

Joe followed Mike into his sanctum — a tiny office 
built in the street, and painted bright blue. Mike 
took a long bill from a hook. 

“Bade that, an’ check if I say so,” he com- 
manded. 

Item by item Joe read the long list of building 
materials. Most of the time Mike nodded, with a 
“Check thot.” “Check — check — ” went on Red 
Mike, checking apparently from memory. 
“Check — no, wan hundred bags was delivered, not 
wan-twinty. Put down wan hundred. ’ ’ 

Joe wondered why Mike needed him just to read 
those items and make a check mark ; for Mike was 
checking from his head. Maybe — at last Joe felt 
sure — Mike couldnH read! Red Mike! The man 
that kept the whole gang working, who knew every- 
thing about everything! Didn’t it just show how 
little important school was? Men like Red Mike, 
who really did things, didn’t need it I During the 
rest of the time, he watched Red Mike intently. 
He was surprised, however, to look up at the con- 
clusion of his work there, and find Red Mike star- 
ing at him. 

“ ’Tis a pity yez had t’ lave school,” remarked 
Mike. “What was it — git into a mess and have 
to lave it?” 

This was so near the truth that Joe turned red 
and wouldn’t answer. He was glad somebody 


AT WOEK 225 

came up just then and made Eed Mike’s presence 
more necessary elsewhere. 

‘‘Tired, kid?” asked Mr. Darby, as they started 
homeward. 

“Naw!” responded Joe, scornfully. As a mat- 
ter of fact, every muscle of his body was protest- 
ing vigorously at the violent change from sitting 
still in school to the strenuous activity of even a 
“helper.” But he wouldn’t have acknowledged 
it, even to himself. 

“Goin’ back again?” asked Mr. Darby. 

“You bet!” answered Joe. 

“I want Joe — just as he is,” called Sis, the mo- 
ment she heard the door slam behind them. 

“Can’t I wash first?” laughed Joe. 

“No ; I want to see you, dirt and all, just as you 
work.” 

So Joe went in and stood before her, proud and 
happy; of his man’s clothes, grimed with the dirt 
of a man’s work. To his surprise her lips 
trembled ominously. 

“Oh, Joe — you’re so — different, somehow! 
You’re not Joe at all — you’re a stranger that I 
don’t know.” 

“I’m the same old chump. Sis; I’m just growin’ 
a bit, that’s all,” protested Joe. 

“But, Joe,” her voice was very pleading, 
“I’ve always lost my big brothers when they grew 
up. I — I can't lose you, Joe. Oh, I don’t want 
you to grow up into a man!” 


226 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


‘ ‘ Him — a man ? ’ ’ Mr. Darby ’s chuckle sounded 
beside them. ‘‘He’ll have to fill out considerable, 
and learn a whole lot, before then. Hey, Joe?” 
And he engaged in a friendly tussle with his son 
that delighted both Joe and Sis. “Any time he 
thinks he’s a man, just let him come and ask me,” 
he laughed. 

“Well, Sis,” said Joe, earnestly, after Mr. 
Darby had gone, “I’m going to be the . exception 
that proves the rule. Don’t you want to go on 
with that story to-night? You’ll really have me 
more, you see, because I won’t have to study 
evenings. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How soon is it due ? I would like to finish it. ’ ’ 

“Due? Jiminy, I forgot.” He opened to the 
back, where a paster announced that it was the 
property of the City High School. 

“Not due for three days. But how’ll I ever 
return it? I’m busy through the day — have to 
mail it, I guess.” 

But despite his denials, Joe did feel different. 
He did feel as though he had suddenly jumped 
over two or three years of life. It wasn’t just his 
pride in his working-clothes, or in the comradeship 
of his father or the commendation of Bed Mike. 
But something had happened to him. He felt 
different — more responsible, more serious. And 
he felt happy — ^utterly happy, but with a queer, 
quiet kind of happiness that he felt sure was going 
to last. 


CHAPTER XIX 


RED MIKE^S ADVICE 

^pISS SCOTT’S been here,” said Joe’s 
|%/1 mother, as he and his father came 

A T borne several days later. 

“Miss Scott — ^who’s she?” asked Mr. Darby. 

‘ ‘ My class teacher, ’ ’ answered Joe. “ What did 
she want ? ’ ’ 

“She says you’ve got to get working-papers if 
you stay out to work. But she wants you to come 
back. Sis can tell you more. They talked to- 
gether a long time.” 

Joe had instantly felt a sudden hope that he 
would have tidings from Roy. Then he checked 
himself sharply. Why should he? And why 
should he care? No; Miss Scott had come only 
about those old working-papers. Now he had to 
go back to school to get them. He didn’t want to 
set foot inside those doors again. 

“Would ye go back, Joe?” asked Mr. Darby 
with curiosity as the boy waited, lost in thought, 
for his turn at the roller towel. 

“No,” said Joe gruffly. 

But nevertheless, he made haste to clean up and 
go in to Sis. Her eyes were shining when he came 
in. 


227 


228 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Guess who’s been here!” she challenged. 

‘‘Miss Scott,” he answered promptly. 

‘‘Oh, ma told you. Well, what else do you 
know?” 

“Only that she doesn’t want me to leave 
school. ’ ’ 

“That all?” 

“That’s all ma said.” 

Sis suppressed an excited wriggle. 

“I like Miss Scott,” she said. 

“Of course. Is that news?” 

“Didn’t you?” 

“Well, I guess. It was she that — ” Joe checked 
himself. He had almost spoken Roy’s name. 

“Yes, I know. And Joe — what’s the very — 
nicest — thing that might possibly happen?” 

“I might take you for an aeroplane ride in my 
1950 model,” replied Joe. He thought immedi- 
ately of Roy, but wouldn’t have mentioned his 
name for a million dollars. 

“I mean really/^ she said, hoping Joe would say 
what she knew he was thinking. But he refused 
to guess, and at last she had to say, 

‘ ‘ There ’s some one wants to see you awful bad. 
Guess who?” 

“Miss Scott.” Joe always guessed wrong to 
please her. 

“No — well, she does, of course, but that isn’t 
the one.” 

“Dr. Cunningham.” 


EED MIKE’S ADVICE 


229 


‘‘Wrong. Some one in yonr class.” 

“John Bartlett. He borrowed five cents he 
never returned.” 

“No, no, silly.” 

“Simon Katz. He owes me a punch for one I 
gave him because he teased — ” Joe’s jaw shut 
together tight. 

“You’re stupid. No, you’re playing stupid. 
Guess now, an honest, truly guess.” But Joe 
wouldn’t speak Boy’s name for fear he might be 
wrong, after all. 

“K,” prompted Sis. 

Joe shook his head. 

“0, Y,” she finished, looking up in delight. 

To her surprise Joe’s face hardened. “What 
does he want of me.^” he muttered. 

“Why, Joe, he just wants you. He hasn’t any 
guide now. I s’pose he wants you same as I 
would. Just think where I’d be if you deserted 
me.” 

“I didn’t desert,*^ interrupted Joe, hastily. He 
didn’t like that word; and he looked so irritated 
that Sis changed the subject. 

But that word of Sis ’s — desert — and Bed Mike ’s 
casual “Git into a mess and have to lave it?” both- 
ered Joe at odd times when he had time to think. 
Now he remembered how Boy had stood up for 
him, believed in him, even at the trial. Then there 
came back to him the hundred little ways he and 
Boy had “fitted together” in doing their work, 


230 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


and the hundred ways Roy had grown to be de- 
pendent on him. Why did they pester him now, 
when he was well out of that mess, didnT want to 
think of it again, and was so happy in his work? 

Happy was no name for it, Joe thought. Every 
day he could note how the big building grew, slowly 
but steadily, under Red Mike’s direction. And 
how he worshiped Red Mike himself — that in- 
carnation of perpetual noise and perpetual mo- 
tion! Joe even liked to hear the sound of that 
big voice of his — that voice which could battle suc- 
cessfully against the rattle of derrick-gear and the 
clatter of the lifting engines. 

‘‘Some different, this is!” he exulted, at work 
one day, as he contrasted the swarming hundred- 
foot lot with the quiet class-room with its boys and 
girls sitting at their desks in silence, till a bell told 
them they might stop work and speak. As Joe 
ran nimbly over a narrow girder, making an old 
lady on the sidewalk shriek with apprehension, he 
smiled as he recalled how they marched at school, 
like sheep, in a meek line through the halls, with 
monitors to keep them in line. 

But Red Mike’s voice broke in upon his 
thoughts. 

“Look out — git out o’ there, you kids,” came 
Red Mike’s shout. Joe shut the door of the blaz- 
ing cavern he had been tending, and looked. A 
strenuous job, he thought, to feed that hungry 
fire. 


BED MIKE^S ADVICE 


231 


‘ ‘ Hey, Joe ! Go chase that gang away, ’ ^ bawled 
Mike, from twenty feet away. ‘‘There’s a blind 
boy with ’em, and he ’ll get hurt sure.” 

At the word Joe dropped his shovel and looked 
anxiously in their direction. It was Eoy! At 
the sight of that familiar figure, Joe’s heart soft- 
ened. Roy had come to him! 

“Git a move on, Joe,” yelled Red Mike, against 
the rattle of the derrick chains. A boy had been 
hurt there last week despite Mike ’s care, so he was 
doubly watchful now. 

Joe dodged through the tortuous way to the side- 
walk, where the boys stood. He felt embarrassed 
at this first meeting — ^he felt ashamed now of not 
having gone to Roy ; for they had been pals. Was 
it being a good pal to keep away when your pal 
had sent for you? Especially as he couldn’t come 
himself. 

Even then, Joe shirked a meeting. Ten feet 
away he stopped, and tried to wave them away 
with a motion of his arm. They didn’t move. So, 
being under Red Mike’s eye, Joe ran nimbly across 
the narrow iron girder that formed the nearest, 
but not the safest, path to them. 

“You boys get away from there,” he ordered. 
Maybe Roy wouldn’t recognize his voice. 

Maybe! He’d forgotten how quick Roy was, 
and how eager to see Joe. 

“That’s Joe himself!” he cried joyfully, as his 
guide started to lead him away. 


232 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Then Joe just had to speak to him. ‘‘What are 
you doing heref^^ he asked, taking Roy by both 
shoulders. 

Roy^s grip was so hard that it was painful; for 
he clutched Joe as if with fear of losing him again. 

“What do you suppose? Why didn’t you 
come?” 

“Why should I come? Your folks don’t want 
me any more. ’ ’ 

“Who said so?” laughed Roy. 

“And I’ve got a job workin’ where my father is, 
so I can't come,” continued Joe. “I’m never 
cornin’ back to school again. I like this.” 

“Not even if you had your old job back?” ven- 
tured Roy, hesitatingly. 

“I — like this better,” repeated Joe, with a feel- 
ing of basely deserting Roy. Yet whose fault was 
it but his own? But Joe still felt he had made 
such a dismal mess of things that he couldn’t bear 
to talk to Roy’s mother. 

“You Joe! I didn’t tell yez t’ howld an after- 
noon rayseption wid y’r f rinds,” Red Mike’s eyes 
seemed to see everything, for the next moment he 
was bawling at a man fifty yards in the opposite 
direction. 

“I got to go back to work,” said Joe, not sorry 
that Red Mike put a stop to the interview. “He 
sent me to drive you away from here. It’s 
dangerous. ’ ’ 

“That your boss? Isn’t he a Tartar, though!” 


BED MIKE’S ADVICE 


233 


^‘No; he’s a brick,” defended Joe, enthu- 
siastically. 

‘‘His head is, anyway,’^ they retorted. But 
they looked at Joe with awe. They were shy of 
this loud-voiced boss; but here was Joe praising 
him. 

Eoy’s brow was puckered as he took one step 
away. 

“That’s final, Joe?” he asked wistfully. 

“Yes,” Joe muttered, sheepishly. Then he ran 
back and tackled his coal-pile as if he could get 
away from this thought that way. But he 
couldn’t. For everywhere he looked, he couldn’t 
help seeing Eoy’s eager, wistful face change its 
expression as Joe said that last word. 

Eed Mike had a visitor that afternoon. A well- 
dressed man, whom Joe summed up as the con- 
tractor, stood and talked with him for several 
minutes. 

“Hey! Joe!” Eed Mike beckoned Joe to his 
side the first time he caught the boy’s eye. Joe 
came over wonderingly. Why should the con- 
tractor want him? 

“Is your name Joe Darby?” asked the man, 
with a business-hke snap in his voice that Joe 
didn’t exactly like. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Joe, looking questioningly 
from Eed Mike to the man. 

“How old are you?” 

“Fifteen.” It began to dawn on Joe what was 


234 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


coming. Miss Scott had fixed him^’ about those 
working-papers. 

‘‘Give me the number of your working-papers.’^ 

“I — ^haven’t any,” faltered Joe. 

“You see?” snapped the man, to Red Mike. 
“When did you leave school?” 

“Last week,” mumbled Joe. Couldn’t any one 
let him alone ! He had been so happy here — more 
so than he had ever been in school — doing his part, 
however insignificant, among men who did things 
instead of reading about them. Now they wanted 
to drag him back to school, where he’d be watched 
and pestered like a kid ! 

“Didn’t you know you had to have working- 
papers ? ’ ’ asked the man, sharply. 

“I never thought about it,” answered Joe, 
blankly. 

“Did he tell you he was sixteen?” the man de- 
manded of Red Mike. 

“Sure, he looked so big I never thought o’ 
askin’,” said Mike, easily. 

“You report in school to-morrow. I ’ll call them 
up during the day and see that you’ve done it. 
We’ll let it pass this once.” The man went away, 
picking his way with a scared, gingerly tread that 
both J oe and Mike grinned over. 

“Sorry, bhoy, I can’t let yez back after to-day,” 
said Red Mike. “Sure, I thought yez was over 
sixteen. It’s back t’ school f ’r yez.” 


BED MIKE’S ADVICE 


235 


“I’ll get my working-papers and come back,” 
answered Joe, savagely. 

“Well; y’r job’ll be open, son.” 

But Joe turned to go back to his work with a 
droop to his shoulders that was not wasted on 
Eed Mike. 

“Wait — come back here a minute,” cried Red 
Mike. J oe came, wondering and half-scared. 
Mike might be angry at Joe’s unintentional de- 
ception. 

“I reckon y’r not likin’ it a little bit, hey?” he 
asked. 

“I don’t want to go back to school. I like it 
here,” jerked out Joe, sullenly kicking a bit of 
stone. 

“Here’s a bit of advice, free-gratis-for-no thing, 
that ye’ll not be after thankin’ me f ’r, I’m thinkin’. 
’Tis a good quick block ye’ve got on top o’ that 
backbone o’ yours. I’ve been noticin’. Go back 
to school, and in foive years ye’ll be cornin’ back 
to boss the likes o’ me.” Joe gazed at Mike in 
amazement. Mike stopped to add, 

“If ye wuz my boy, I’d make ye do it, too.” 
Then he suddenly saw something going wrong in 
the opposite street, and was no longer there. 

Joe went back to his work, thinking hard. It 
was all right for Sis and Miss Scott and Dr. Cun- 
ningham and the truant officer to be cranky about 
school. Sis didn’t know about the real world, and 


236 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


as for the others, why, school was their business, 
so of course they thought it important. If they 
didn’t keep kids in school, there wouldn’t be any 
jobs for them, was Joe’s naive view! 

But here was Red Mike — the efficient boss of all 
these men, the man whose good word Joe would 
rather have than that of any one else in the world 
— here was this big, strong, capable Red Mike ad- 
vising him to stick to school till — it was almost 
unbelievable — till he ‘‘came back to be bossin’ the 
likes of him!” And he had said, *^If ye wuz my 
hoy, Vd make ye do itV’ Maybe there was some- 
thing in it, acknowledged Joe. Anyway, he had 
to go ; and Red Mike ’s words certainly made him 
feel better about going. 


CHAPTER XX 


boy’s tendebfoot 

S o the next morning Joe’s brown shirt and 
overalls lay neglected on a chair, while Joe 
donned again the short knickers that he had 
been so glad to get rid of. And Joe, instead of 
going forth with the wage-earners at six-thirty, 
went, as he thought disgustedly, with the school- 
kids at eight-thirty. 

‘‘Joe, Dr. Cunningham wants to see you in the 
office,” said Miss Scott. 

Joe grinned at his own thoughts. “The last 
time she said that, I was scared stiff for fear 
they’d kick me out! Now I’m mad because they 
want to keep me. Oh, the whole world’s crazy — 
or else I am!” 

Why couldn’t they let him come back without 
any bother, he thought impatiently. That wasn’t 
the way Red Mike did things — always making a 
fuss over nothing. 

Joe was almost tempted to bolt out of that open 
front door. There were jobs out there — men’s 
jobs, digging and building. There were men out 
there, on that shining white road that beckoned 
him away — ^men that wanted more like themselves ; 
237 


238 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


men like big Red Mike — bow Joe adored big Red 
Mike! But Joe couldn’t go to those things — the 
truant officer would dog his tracks, and do him 
out of his work as he had done yesterday. 

The mental picture of that skinny truant officer, 
with his eyeglasses and gingerly tread, talking 
with big Red Mike — an eloquent contrast — recalled 
Mike’s last words to Joe. ‘‘You’ve got a good 
block on that backbone of yours. Go back to 
school,” he had said, “and in five years you’ll be 
coming back to boss the likes of me.” We-ell, 
thought Joe, slowly. He couldn’t believe, for a 
minute, that Red Mike didn’t know what he was 
talking about. A realization slowly dawned upon 
him. Why; sitting there in school, he was just 
that minute where Red Mike, for Joe’s own good, 
would want him to be! Well; he’d stick. He’d 
show Red Mike that he appreciated his advice. 

“Joe Darby; step into the office, please, now,” 
Dr. Cunningham’s secretary emerged from the pri- 
vate office. 

Joe entered, unwillingly. Dr. Cunningham 
looked up with his cordial smile, and put out his 
hand. 

“We’re very glad to have you back, my boy,” 
he said, as his hand closed warmly over Joe’s. 

Well, thought Joe, practically; did he send for 
him just to tell him that? A year ago he would 
have put that thought into impudent words. 

“Sit down and let’s talk things over. Did you 


ROY^S TENDERFOOT 


239 


come back because you had to, or because you 
wanted to?” asked the principal. 

Joe turned red. ‘‘At first — because I had to. 
But I guess now I want to,” he added honestly. 
What was there about Dr. Cunningham that 
always made you want to tell him everything so 
he^d understand; and made you feel sure he^d 
symimthize and help, when he did understand? 

“Tell me about it,” he said, with his encourag- 
ing smile. 

So Joe told him everything — about Red Mike 
and the work Joe liked so. This led to Joe^s work 
with Roy, and why he had given it up. This 
brought up the trial, and then the arrest. Then 
Joe had to tell what he was doing that night, and 
about Dick. Before he knew it. Dr. Cunningham 
had the whole story of what had happened since 
Joe’s last day in school. Joe didn’t know it, but 
he had already heard much of it before, from Roy 
and Mrs. Manners. 

“So you liked your work with the construction 
company?” 

Joe gave an emphatic affirmative. 

“Is that the sort of work you would like to do? 
Have you ever thought about the kind of work 
you’re going to choose for your life-work?” 

Choose? Did people choose their work? Joe 
had never thought of that. 

“I — never — thought. I just thought I’d get 
some work, when I wanted it, and just keep on. A 


240 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TKOOP 


boy I know got a job right away as a messenger- 
boy. 

''Don't think of that," said Dr. Cunningham, 
abruptly. "Do you know why not?" he de- 
manded, seeing the surprise in Joe's face. 

"No, sir," answered Joe. He glanced at the 
clock. Here was Dr. Cunningham wasting all this 
time on him ! 

"It's what we call a 'blind-alley occupation.' 
Did you ever hear of that 1 There 's no way out to 
bigger things through doing that. You couldn't 
be a messenger-boy very long, you know. And 
you're not in any way a bit better fitted to do 
something else, or earn more money, when you get 
through. Now, take an apprentice to a plumber, 
for example; while he's working, and earning, at 
the same time he's learning — ^learning things that 
will make him able to set up for himself later. Do 
you see the difference ! ' ' 

"Yes, sir," Joe was really interested. What a 
lot of things there were to figure out in the world. 

"And then, if you once get into the right kind 
of an occupation, the only limit as to how far you 
go is yourself. And by yourself I mean every- 
thing — ^your character, your mind, your education, 
your ambition in the matter. For example, your 
friend, Bed Mike." Joe was thinking about him, 
himself. "You say he can't read. Yet he advises 
you to go back to school. WLy? Don't you sup- 
pose it's because he feels keenly how the lack of 


ROY’S TENDERFOOT 


241 


an education is keeping him back. For he must 
have a splendid mind to do the things he does.” 

‘‘It’s just like a horse tied to a post,” said Joe. 
‘ ‘ He can get so far, and then can’t go any farther. ’ ’ 

The principal laughed. “So we’ll have to be 
careful that we give ourselves as long a halter as 
possible, and tie ourselves to the right kind of a 
post at the start. Are you going to stay till you 
graduate ? ” he asked abruptly. 

“I dunno what my father’s plannin’. I know 
he was goin’ to keep me in school this year. He 
may need me. I don’t like to loaf in school 
when — ” Joe stopped confused. That unfortu- 
nate phrase had slid out before he thought. But 
Principal Cunningham only laughed. 

“You mean, staying in school without earning? 
For I didn’t know you were loafing in school, now. 
If you boys and girls would only realize that you 
are working — ^working for your parents when you 
work in school. It doesn’t show at once, but it 
does later on. You believe that, don’t you, Joe?” 

“Yes, sir, I do.” 

“You liked this work with the construction com- 
pany. Just why?” 

“I dunno. I liked bein’ with lots o’ men, an’ 
doin’ things — ^makin’ big things,” Joe was trying 
to explain the unexplainable. 

“I^^y not plan definitely for some of the build- 
ing trades? Go and talk with this Mike. Talk 
with your father. Think it over. You’ve got till 


242 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


June anyway. And come and talk with me. 
You’re interested in Scouting, Roy says.” (Did 
Dr. Cunningham know everything?) ‘‘When you 
get to be a first-class Scout, there are merit badges 
that often tell you whether you do, or whether you 
don’t, want to choose a particular occupation. 
You can get them in Architecture, Automobiling, 
Electricity, Machinery, Masonry, Blacksmithing, 
Mining, Plumbing — ^look them up ; there are many 
more. You know where to find them — in the 
Handbook? Or haven’t you seen it?” 

“Roy loaned it to me.” Joe hadn’t meant to 
begin talking about Roy. 

“And what about Roy? Are you going back 
as his guide ? ’ ’ 

“Dunno,” muttered Joe. 

‘ ‘ He needs you. He told me he never had such 
a good guide before. That money would help, 
wouldn’t it, in keeping you in school longer? Are 
you feeling shy towards his mother, because of 
Dick? Or are you a bit of a coward about facing 
your own mistakes ? ’ ’ 

Joe didn’t answer. How did Dr. Cunningham 
manage to strike things so exactly? 

“And Roy believed in you through it all. Isn’t 
that a reason for not deserting him now?” 

Joe looked down. That word desert again! 

“Shall I send for him?” asked Dr. Cunningham, 
with a smile. His hand hung over the bell which 
would summon his secretary. 


EOY^S TENDEEFOOT 


243 


‘‘I— guess so/' jerked out Joe. He was sur- 
prised at the feeling of relief that the clang of the 
hell brought. 

‘ ‘ Has Eoy Manners — ^the blind boy — come yet ? ' ' 
the principal asked the secretary. 

^‘I'll send to his room to see, Dr. Cunningham," 
she replied. 

‘'Have him come here, please." Then to Joe, 
“I'm glad, for his sake, you decided to do it. He 
has missed you sadly." 

A few minutes later Eoy stood at the door. 

“Eoy," said Dr. Cunningham, “here's your old 
guide back again." 

Eoy's white face lighted. “Not — Joe!'' he 
cried, incredulously. 

‘ ‘ No one but Joe. Now you two boys go to your 
room and begin to make up the time you have 
lost." 

Joe slipped his hand through Eoy's elbow. The 
grip Eoy gave him was good to feel. But neither 
said a word, and both were glad that the bell for 
assembly rang at that identical moment. 

“I've been studying in the Library, here at 
school," said Eoy, at the close of school. “Would 
you rather keep on that way? And Bob Norris 
can go home with me. ' ' 

Joe felt ashamed. How good it was of Eoy to 
appreciate J oe 's feeling of hating to go back to the 
Manners' house. Another bugbear in his path 
keeled over. And Eoy, for his part, knew from 


244 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


the way Joe assented that he had guessed right 
about it. 

But Roy — ^whose affliction made him sensitive to 
the feelings of others — ^was nevertheless resolved 
to get his pal Joe back again, and maneuvered to 
bring it about. One day it became necessary to 
ask Joe to take him home, for Bob Norris didn’t 
appear. 

^‘You needn’t go in, or see any one, if you don’t 
want to,” apologized Roy, so humbly that Joe 
again felt ashamed of himself for being ^‘touchy.” 

‘‘See here; you needn’t worry about that,” he 
said, gruffly. 

“Do you mean you wouldn’t mind?” asked Roy, 
eagerly. 

‘ ‘ Do you mean you ’d rather have me study with 
you there than here?” demanded Joe. 

“Why, ye-es; in lots of ways. My books and 
things are handy there — there’s a rest between to 
go home and have luncheon. Don’t you s ’pose you 
can?” 

“All you have to do is to say the word,” an- 
swered Joe, firmly. Surely a fellow might do 
something hard for the best pal that ever was ! 

“Then — ^would you mind — we’ll begin to-mor- 
row. ’ ’ 

“0. K.,” answered Joe, cheerfully. 

Joe’s chief concern now was his meeting with 
Mrs. Manners. But he found he needn’t have wor- 
ried. For a week he went in and out of the house 


ROY^S TENDERFOOT 


245 


without seeing a soul — not even Norah. Then one 
day Roy’s mother walked into the room and began 
speaking to him as if nothing had ever hap- 
pened. 

Joe,” said she, ‘^will you do an errand for me 
when you go to-night!” 

‘‘Yes’m,” stammered Joe, embarrassed. 

‘ ‘ Will you deliver — this ! The address is on it. ’ ’ 
She laid on the table a small box about an inch 
square; and then went hastily away, without an- 
other word, before Joe had time to pick it up. 

Joe took it up with some curiosity. Her man- 
ner was so peculiar and hurried, with almost em- 
barrassment in it, that Joe was puzzled. He was 
not accustomed to seeing Mrs. Manners embar- 
rassed. On the small white packet was written 
the direction — 


Miss Cicely Darby 

Something for Sis — from her! Joe put it down 
again on the table. He couldn’t forget that at the 
end she had been convinced of his guilt. She had 
caused him so much anguish, once — she wasn’t go- 
ing to begin being nice to Sis, and then letting her 
drop just when she felt like it. 

But Joe’s eyes fell on Roy’s sensitive face, as 
he listened. It had been aglow— now the glow was 
fading into troubled doubt as he waited, question- 
ingly. 

^‘You’re not going to act obstinate and stupid 


246 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


about it, are you 1 ’ Roy asked at last. ‘ HUs from 
me as well as mother — ’’ 

‘‘All right, you chump. It^s gone into my 
pocket already,’^ interrupted Joe. He was never 
so glad of anything as that the clock began to 
strike five at that instant. 

‘ ‘ Got to go, ’ ’ he muttered ; and fled. 

Joe looked at that package many times on the 
way home. Of course he couldn’t open it; but he 
could wonder about it, and feel of it, and even 
shake it. But all that told him nothing. 

“Now Fve got a secret to tease you with,” be- 
gan Joe, as he dropped into the chair by Sis’s bed- 
side. 

“Have you? How nice. Tell me right away.” 

“Wouldn’t be a secret, then, would it?” laughed 
Joe. “If that isn ’t just like a girl ! ’ ’ 

But Sis only turned over, shut her eyes as if to 
listen, and rested a hand on Joe’s. 

This was Joe’s chance he had been hoping for. 
He already had the box ready in his hand. Now 
he pulled his hand from under hers, leaving the 
box there instead. 

Sis opened her eyes in hurt surprise at his jerk- 
ing his hand away. Then she felt the strange 
object. 

“Why — ^what — ?” she began. 

“Search me. 1 don’t know what it is,” replied 
Joe, honestly. How he enjoyed her puzzled 
face ! 



“Oh, Joe!” she cried. “A diamond — ring!” 

Page 247 








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EOY’S TENDERFOOT 247 

Now she turned the box over and around till she 
found the address. 

‘‘Why — that^s me!’' she cried. 

‘ ‘ Correct, ’ ’ grinned Joe. “ Glad you know your 
own name, Sis.” 

“ Where 'd you get it? Who’s it from?” she 
demanded. 

‘ ‘ Roy and — his mother. ’ ’ 

“Well; I’m going to open it,” she said at last, 
after feeling it all over again. 

“I should hope so!” complained Joe. But he 
was enjoying himself hugely. 

She untied the hard knot with trembling fingers. 
The tissue paper disclosed inside a velvet jewel- 
box. Sis paused before she pressed the spring 
that opened it. 

“What do you s’pose is in it?” she murmured. 
She touched the spring. ‘ ‘ Oo-o-o ! ’ ’ she shrieked. 

The daintiest diamond ring lay winking on its 
white velvet inside the box. 

“Oh, Joe!” she cried. “A diamond — ring! 
What do you s’pose it means?” 

“There’s a letter — dropped out when you undid 
it,” suggested Joe, picking it up from the floor. 
He was sorry now that he had taken it. 

Sis read aloud: 

dear Miss Darby/ {*‘Miss Darby repeated Sis.) 

— Roy and his mother — are sending this to you so that 
through you we may tell your brother Joe what we feel he will 
not let us tell him — that we know, and understand, and are 


248 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


grateful for, the services that he rendered us one night not 
long ago. Whenever you look at it, or he does, you are to 
think that we remember how he saved certain other diamond 
rings, and unfortunately suffered for it. We are sorry for 
that ; we are sorry that we perhaps helped add to his burden — ^ 

‘‘Oh, Joe, isn^t she sweet? And isn’t it grand! 
Don’t you see what she means — what she’s trying 
to say? She knows all about it — she understands 
— and she’s sorry she didn’t believe in you, and 
that she made you feel bad — ” 

“She needn’t make a fuss over me/’ responded 
Joe. But somehow he felt as if a great, ugly bur- 
den had been quietly lifted. 

“I tell you, Joe, they must think a lot of you.” 
She looked at him with worshiping eyes. 

“Oh, pshaw!” answered Joe. 

So Joe slipped back rather more easily than he 
had expected, into his old position. Things began 
to go on in the same way they had before the rob- 
bery. Yet not quite: Joe saw — ^because now he 
was on the lookout for them — ^new possibilities in 
school; since Bed Mike had spoken as he had 
about it, and since Dr. Cunningham had added to 
that. Joe never lost the feeling, either, that he 
had suddenly jumped over two or three years of 
life — the feeling that he was older by that much 
actual time, and that the old Joe of two or three 
months ago was really as far away as two or three 
years. But best of all was the new understanding 
between J oe and his father. Joe never stopped to 


ROY’S TENDERFOOT 


249 


listen now, to see if Mr. Darby were in a good 
humor before he ventured inside the door; he 
didn’t start whenever he heard that gruff voice call 
his name. Nor his heart didn’t heat fast — except 
with pride — ^the next time he brought home his re- 
port card to be signed. 

‘‘H’m,” said Mr. Darby. ^‘I’ve seen them 
things before.” He and Joe exchanged a twin- 
kling glance of appreciation of past experiences. 
Then Mr. Darby looked back at the card. 

‘^Le’s see — eye’ll be sixteen in July,” he said. 

‘^Yes, sir,” answered Joe, wondering what was 
coming. 

‘H’m thinkin’ ye can stay in school another year, 
mebbe, if ye want to.” 

Joe’s heart leaped. ‘H’d like to work vacation 
time, and Saturdays,” he suggested. 

“Ye see, your dollar a week makes Sis’s trip 
sure next summer,” said Mr. Darby, as he signed 
the card. 

“Does it!” cried Joe. He hadn’t been sure of 
that. 

“So I don’t have to save f ’r that.” Mr. Darby 
put his pipe back into his mouth. 

“Say,” demanded Joe. “Can’t I tell her! I 
know she’d like to be sure.” 

“Well — are you sure o’ keepin’ y’r job with 
Roy!” 

“Yes, sir.” How proud Joe felt. 

“Tell her if you think it’ll make her easier. I 


250 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TEOOP 


had a notion it might make her unaisy for summer 
to come if she was sure. An^ iUs so long till sum- 
mer. ’ ^ 

‘ ' Oh, I ’m sure it won % ^ ^ answered Joe. ‘ ‘ She ’s 
worryin^ all the time now about whether there 11 
be enough to take her.’^ 

“Well; you know her better nor any of us — 
even her ma. She’s a quare little girl. I’m 
countin’ on you t’ keep dost to her, an’ be good to 
her. She’ll tell you things she won’t tell any one 
else.” 

Joe felt six inches taller as he went in to tell 
Sis the glad news. He was Sis’s guardian, ap- 
pointed by his father. He felt as if he had been 
knighted. He knew she’d been adding up that 
money till the doubt made her nearly crazy. 

“I guess you’re a good Scout, all right,” she 
murmured, after he had told her, with a happy 
smile on the face, which she tried in vain to sober 
down. 

Joe wasn’t fishing for any compliments, and he 
told Sis so. “That reminds me,” he exclaimed, 
glad to change the subject, “I’d better return 
Eoy’s Handbook/^ 

“I was just goin’ to ask if you were through 
with it,” said Eoy, in answer to that question, the 
next day. “I’m going to pass my first class re- 
quirements next month,” he said proudly. 

Joe felt a jab of jealousy. He knew — for he 
knew those requirements by heart — that the first- 


ROY^S TENDERFOOT 


251 


class tests required Roy to ‘‘enlist a Tenderfoot 
trained by himself/’ Who was Roy’s Tenderfoot 
going to be? For a week Joe wondered about it. 
Once he had thought perhaps — no, he had no busi- 
ness thinking things ! Roy had a right to choose 
his own Tenderfoot, of course. 

But Roy never mentioned Scouts again; and Joe 
noticed that he changed the subject, one day when 
Joe happened to speak of them, in a most embar- 
rassed way. 

“Do you remember your Braille?” asked Roy 
one day in study-hall. 

“Guess so,” answered Joe. He hadn’t hap- 
pened to need to transcribe anything for Roy since 
he started in being his guide anew. Roy had a 
new typewriter, and wrote his exercises on it. 

“See if you can read this,” he said, with a queer 
smile crinkling the comers of his mouth. He 
punched a sentence with unusually awkward fin- 
gers, and Joe looked over his shoulder and read as 
he punched : 




“Will you be my Tenderfoot — ” 


252 BOY SCOUTS OF LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 


Joe reached and took the stylus and tablet, be- 
fore Roy had a chance to write the question-mark. 
He wrote : 


And when Roy’s eager fingers read Joe’s You 
bet,” both felt as if there was nothing more left in 
the world to be desired. 


THE END 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


Published with the approval of 
The Boy Scouts of America 


In the boys’ world of story books, none 
better than those about boy scouts arrest 
and grip attention. In a most alluring way, 
the stories in the BOY SCOUT LIFE 
SERIES tell of the glorious good times and 
wonderful adventures of boy scouts. 

All the books were written by authors 
possessed of an intimate knowledge of this 
greatest of all movements organized for the 
welfare of boys, and are published with the 
approval of the National Headquarters of the Boy Scouts 
of America. 

The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. F. K. Mathiews, writes 
concerning them: “It is a bully bunch of books. I hope 
you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are 
the sort that help instead of hurt our movement.” 



THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS— C/?t/yWP 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP— 
MCLANE 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS^ CHELEY 
THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS— LERRI GO 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

I2mo., Cloth, Illustrated, Per vol. 75 cents postpaid 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


BARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23rd Street 


New York 


THRILLING STORIES OF 

THE BIG EUROPEAN WAR 


THE BIG WAR SERIES 

{Trade Mark Registered) 

BY ROSS KAY. 



The big European War, one of the greatest 
epoch-making events in the world’s history, 
has been chosen by one of the best-known 
writers of juvenile fiction as the scene of a 
series of thrilling stories of these stirring 
times. 

Not a description of battles, nor the study 
of strategical campaigns, but good whole- 
some fiction with a little of the historical in- 
terwoven. These are authentic, instructive 
and exciting narratives on the greatest war 
in history. 


THE SEARCH FOR THE SPY. 

THE AIR SCOUT. 

DODGING THE NORTH SEA MINES. 

WITH JOFFRE ON THE BATTLE LINE. 

FIGHTING IN FRANCE. 

BATTLING ON THE SOMME. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large I2mo., Illustrated, Per vol. 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


PARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23rd Street 


New York 


THE GO AHEAD BOYS 

BY ROSS KAY. 


I leave this rule for others when Vm dead: 

Be always sure you’re right — THEN GO AHEAD. 

— Davy Crockett’s Motto. 



The love of adventure is inborn in all 
normal boys. Action is almost a supreme 
demand in all the stories they read with 
most pleasure. Here is presented a series 
of rattling good adventure stories which 
every live “go ahead” boy will read with 
unflagging interest. There is action, dash 
and snap in every tale yet the tone is health- 
ful and there is an underlying vein of re- 
sourcefulness and strength that is worth 
while. 


1 THE GO AHEAD BOYS ON SMUGGLERS’ ISLAND. 

2 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE. 

3 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS 

OLD HOUSE. 

4 THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP. 

5 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE RACING MOTOR 

BOAT. 

6 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND SIMON’S MINE. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large I2mo„ Illustrated, Per voL 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


BARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23 rd Street 


New York 



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